


I Won't Love You

by KBeautimous



Series: I Won't Love You (Sam & Chrys) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Badass Original Character, Dom!Sam, Dom/sub, Dominant Sam Winchester, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Gratuitous Smut, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Past Drug Use, Shameless Smut, bitchy ofc, seriously so much angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:32:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 63
Words: 176,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8250874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KBeautimous/pseuds/KBeautimous
Summary: Chrys Summers has known her whole life that she's Sam Winchester's (sort of) soulmate. But when she finally finds him, he's less than thrilled to have her.OFC insert, starts S5E2, goes through storyline.





	1. Who's Asking?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fanfiction. I own only Chrys Summers, the original character. I don't own Supernatural or the characters. (heartbroken)  
> Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.  
> If there are any mistakes in continuity, canon, or geography, call me on it.  
> 

“I… I learned it from Ruby.”

Sam Winchester didn’t know what to say. He had started the apocalypse. He had betrayed his brother, the most important person who had ever been in his life, and he had started the apocalypse. There weren’t words.

Dean stepped forward to Sam. “Speaking of. How you doing? Are you jonesing for another hit of bitch blood or what?”

Sam shook his head, relieved to have good news to report. “It's weird. Uh, tell you the truth, I'm fine. No shakes, no fever. It's like whoever… Put me on that plane cleaned me right up.”

Dean huffed. “Supernatural methadone.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He paused. He needed to say something. He wanted to clear the air, if there would ever be a way to do that. “Dean-”

Dean turned away. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

“Well, that's good. Because what can I even say? ‘I'm sorry?’ ‘I screwed up?’ Doesn't really do it justice, you know? Look, there's nothing I can do or say that will ever make this right-”

He was interrupted by a knock on the door of the motel room they were in. Sam looked at Dean, who was picking up his gun and pointed to the door.

Sam pulled his gun from his waistband and moved to answer the door.

The woman standing there was the most beautiful person Sam had ever laid eyes on. Raven, wavy hair was spilling over her shoulder. She was wearing a tight tank top, which left a wide strip of her midriff bare. A long, swirling skirt was slung low on her hips. Striking blue eyes stared at him, and he felt like she was gazing into his soul. He felt himself wanting to stand straighter, to run a hand through his hair to make sure he looked presentable.

She looked _pissed._

“Sam Winchester?” Her voice was low, melodic, and a little hypnotizing.

Dean, apparently, was not affected. “Who’s asking?” he snapped.

She looked around Sam to meet Dean’s eyes. “So that makes you Dean.”

Dean’s face was stony as he answered. “Who’s. Asking?” he bit out again.

She rolled her eyes, pushing her hair off of her shoulder. She met Sam’s eyes. “Please. You’re tall, you’re gorgeous, there’s two of you, and you’re treating me like a suspect. You’re the Winchesters.”

Sam put his gun back into his waistband, ignoring Dean’s irritated hiss. “You have me at a disadvantage. What’s your name?”

She smiled. “Chrys Summers,” she said sweetly, before she reared back and hit him.

Pain exploded in Sam’s face, and he swung around, clutching his cheek. “What the hell?”

She smiled. “I have a feeling that you have either very recently done, or will very soon do, something to deserve that.”

Dean snarled and advanced. Sam watched as she ignored Dean to pull the silver knife out of Sam’s belt. There should have been a fight instinct rising in him, but Sam felt weirdly calm, like he knew she wouldn’t hurt him. _What is going on?_

His serenity was rewarded when she ran the knife along her own arm, proving that she wasn’t a shifter. She then pulled a water bottle with a rosary in it from the bag slung across her shoulder. She took a swig, amused blue eyes meeting his as she proved she wasn’t a demon. She screwed the cap back on and smiled at Dean. “Satisfied, Winchester?”

“Who the hell are you?” Dean growled out.

Sam found himself becoming irritated at his brother’s abrasiveness. “Dean-”

“Well, I’m what you guys have been waiting for,” she said bitterly, looking between the two of them. “Right?”

Sam frowned and stepped forward. “What are you talking about?”

She stepped toward him, gazing up at him. But not as much as he was used to. She was tall, six feet tall at least. She studied him intensely, letting the silence draw out. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, stepping away from him. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “You don’t know.”

Dean came forward and grabbed her arm. “Start making sense, or I start swinging,” he snarled.

Sam frowned again. “Dean.”

She spun and punched Dean in the stomach, hard. He doubled over, gasping for breath. “Hands off, Winchester,” she snapped.

Chrys turned back to Sam, her face hardening. “So, this is going to be a fabulous conversation.” She let out a huff, then looked at him. “Well, like a Band-Aid, right? Sam Winchester, you are the one true vessel of Lucifer! Congratulations!” She spread her arms wide and bent at the waist. “You win a shitty soulmate who already hates you and is intensely bitter, and probably a fate worse than death.”

Silence reigned for a moment. “What?” Sam asked, still reeling.

Sense came back. “What the hell are you talking about?” He asked, getting angry. “Who the hell are you? What the hell are you talking about?”

Dean had gotten his breath back and grabbed her arm, yanking her back. “You had best start talking, bitch, and that was your last damn cheap shot.”

She yelped a little when he grabbed her other arm, holding them behind her. “Let go of me! God dammit, how is it my fault you’re both too stupid to know what’s going on?” Realizing that she couldn’t get away from Dean, she stopped her struggles and looked at Sam. “I’m the one who should be irritated, I have to shack up with an _idiot_ for eternity!”

Sam took a deep breath. “Look, just tell me what you’re talking about, please.”

“Tell your brother to let me go.”

“Not a chance, bitch.” Dean snarled, yanking her arms back harder.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Okay, look. You are Lucifer’s vessel. The only vessel that can hold him.”

Sam frowned. “That can’t be true. He… He, uh, was already released. Why hasn’t he come after me?”

She chuckled darkly. Sam felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. “Because are you going to say _yes_ right now?”

“He needs permission?” Dean asked, still growling.

“He’s an _angel,_ dumbass. Like, the worst angel, of course, but he’s still an angel, and he needs your permission to possess you. He wants to butter you up first, he knows he’ll have to convince you to say yes.”

Sam frowned. “Then what are you here for?”

“Like I said, I’m your soulmate.”

Dean shook her a little. “What does that _mean,_ bitch?”

“Okay, I’ve told you my name, start using it, dick. And how many meanings can the word ‘soulmate’ possibly have?”

“Chrys,” Sam interrupted Dean’s response. “Tell me why you’re here.”

She sighed. “I am Lucifer’s intended. _His_ soulmate, or I would be, if he had a soul. But, since he doesn’t, and he wanted me to be bound to him, he somehow got me bound… To you.”

Sam blinked. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why does Lucifer need a mate?”

She closed her eyes, an unidentifiable emotion on her face. “So I can bear his children, Sam. Lucifer wants kids. That’s why I’m here.”

“Okay, even if what you’re saying is true, why the hell would you come here? To me? You don’t seem like you want this, so why wouldn’t you be halfway across the world?”

She didn’t open her eyes, and Sam saw her shoulders droop a little. “I can’t. It’s painful to be away from you.” Her eyes opened, and he returned her hard stare with one of his own. “Like, I mean, literally, _physically_ painful to be away from you. When Lucifer was set free, it suddenly felt like my stomach was on fire. I could barely breathe, and I felt an uncontrollable urge to come here. So I packed a bag and hit the road. It wasn’t until I was halfway here that I realized who I was running to.” A bitter smile crossed her face. “My beloved husband. Ugh.”

Sam frowned and ignored her snark.  “What about your family? Friends? Job?”

She shook her head. “Nada. My parents are dead, I don’t have friends, and I’m a part-time bartender. I just walked away.”

“Why the hell would we believe you?” Dean asked, but there was less anger in his voice.

She shrugged. “Well, you could stick me in the trunk and start driving away from Sammy, here. I’d probably be dead in an hour.” She looked thoughtful. “That would probably solve all of our problems. Let’s do that.”

Sam frowned. “It’s Sam.”

“Excuse me?”

“Dean’s the only one who calls me Sammy. It’s Sam.”

She laughed, and the bitterness in the sound pinged at Sam’s heart. “Well, go ahead excuse the hell out of me, but I’m essentially being forced into prostitution here, so I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want, _Sammy.”_

Dean picked her up by her arms and carried her to the door. “All right, Chrys, you’re done talking." He dropped her and pushed her to the door. “Leave.”

Sam watched hurt, then fear flash through her eyes before they became unreadable again. “Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll go. When Lucifer is pissed, let him know that I tried.” She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder, glaring at them. “And I’ll be sure to let people know that the Winchesters are _not_ the heroes everyone claims they are.”

The door slammed behind her.

***

Chrys had never been more upset. Nothing had prepared her for stupid fucking Sam Winchester completely rejecting her. She walked away from the motel, wrapping her arms around her middle to ward off the chill.

She didn’t know when she’d found out that she was meant to be with Sam, it was just knowledge she’d always carried on her heart. She had _waited_ for that bastard. She had known that he was solitary, so she’d made herself the same way, so she could go to him when it was time. She didn’t have any fucking _friends,_ for God’s sake, and he had the nerve to tell her to leave.

She didn’t _want_ to be Lucifer’s mate. But when she’d started talking to people about how to break the bond, they had told her about Sam. They told her he was smart, and kind, and handsome to boot. She had held out hope in a tiny part of her heart that, despite the fact that she had been unable to break the curse that was her life, Sam would help her find a way to be free.

Tears pricked her eyes, and she angrily dashed them away. She was glad she hadn’t told them about her feelings about Sam. She didn’t want them to keep her around out of pity, the fucks.

Chrys tried hard to ignore the pain that started to build slowly as she walked. She was too mad to stop, and too proud to beg them to keep her. She would rather be in pain.

Although, this was the worst it has ever been. Breathing began to be difficult, and she fought to keep her vision from blurring. It had been about twenty minutes, she was at least a mile away, or so she thought. She hadn’t been keeping a close eye on the time.

It felt like there was actually fire in her belly, and her head was in a vise of pain. Her knees buckled, and she fought the urge to write in agony.

 _I will not go back to them, I will not go back to them,_ she thought stubbornly, forcing herself to crawl forward. She knew she had a high pain tolerance, and had always assumed that good ol’ Lucifer had made her tough enough to survive a life with the Winchesters.

 _Not that it will do any good now,_ she thought as she struggled against the darkness trying to envelop her.

Betrayal, anger, and hurt like she had never known swept through her, along with the physical agony she was in.

 _Fucking Sam Winchester,_ she snarled internally as she finally passed out.

***

“-saying it's very unlikely an abandoned convent would be a target for terrorists, either foreign or homegrown.”  
  
“Change the station.” Dean snapped.

Guilt was killing Sam. Chrys had left his mind, and the uncontrollable guilt was raging through him again. He obeyed silently.

“-Hurricane Kinley, unexpectedly slamming into the Galveston area-”

Sam hit the button again.

“-announced a successful test of the North Korean nuclear-”

Again.

“-a series of tremors-”

Again.

“-swine flu-”

Sam frowned and turned the radio off. Since reigned for a moment, then, “Dean, look-”  
  
“Don't say anything.” Dean paused, then said, “It's okay. We just got to keep our heads down and hash this out, all right?”  
  
Sam nodded. “Yeah, okay.”  
  
“All right, well, first things first. How did we end up on Soul Plane?”  
  
Sam shrugged. “Angels, maybe? I mean, you know, beaming us out of harm's way?”  
  
“Well, whatever. It's the least of our worries. We need to find Cas.”

They drove around a curve, and Sam grabbed Dean’s arm. “Dean.”

There was a prone figure on the road wearing a familiar skirt laying on the side of the road.

Dean shrugged coldly. “Bitch got herself killed. Sucks to be her.”

Sam frowned at his older brother. “Dude, pull over.”

“Dammit, Sam, she’s crazy. We can’t take on some psycho right now. We’ve got too much shit going on.”

Sam grabbed his door handle. “Dean, pull the fucking car over.”

Dean growled as he pulled over, stopping the car before they ran Chrys over. Sam got out and walked around, getting to his knees next to her.

He turned her gently onto her back. He placed a hand on her face. “Chrys? Chrys, are you okay?”

Her eyes fluttered. “Hmmm?”

“Chrys, can you walk?”

Her brow was furrowed. “Hurts still.”

Sam frowned. “What hurts?”

She was coming to. Her eyes focused on them, and he saw real fear in them. “Everything. It must be because I left.”

Sam frowned. “Left me?”

It seemed like she realized who she was talking to. She sat up quickly and shoved him away with a hand on his chest. “Not your problem, Winchester. I’ll deal with it. Maybe become an alcoholic. Do you think whiskey will help?”

Sam was staring at her. He knew he was, but he couldn’t stop it. “You were in pain because we weren’t together?”

Dean had come around the front of Baby. “What?”

She rolled her eyes and tried to stand. She stumbled, and Sam shot up and caught her. “Easy.”

She yanked herself away from him and limped to the Impala, leaning against it. “Just, no. I am not staying with people who think I’m nuts. Absolutely not. I can fix this on my own. I’m a big girl.”

Sam frowned again, irritated. “Chrys, if it hurts you to be away from me, you should stay with us until we find a way around it.”

Dean glared at both of them. “Why would it hurt her to be away from you?”

Chrys rolled her eyes and groaned. “I told you why, Dean,” she said softly. “Look, I have tried a hundred ways to get this to stop. I have summoned demons, I have talked to witches. I have talked to people from India, Russia, Japan. I stayed with Native Americans, a coven of Satanists, and everything in between. The only way to get it to stop is if we’re together, or I die.” She frowned. “At least, I hope that would work.”

Sam stepped forward. “Chrys, be reasonable-”

“Go fuck yourself, _Sammy.”_ She snapped, fire in her eyes. “I have spent my whole damn life trying to deal with the fact that I am the Devil's brood mare. I was told that you, Sam Winchester, was the kind of guy who could help. That you might be able to help me get away from this.” She whipped around to glare at Dean, too. “Instead, I got kicked out. Which I get. But I just found out that I can’t be more than half a mile away from you sons of bitches, so excuse me if I’m not being ‘reasonable.’”

Sam didn’t know what to say. “Look, I know this sucks-” She snorted, and he ignored it. “But I think the safest place for you is with us. For God’s sake, Chrys, you can’t walk a mile without passing out.”

“Sam, we’re not-”

“No, Dean!” Sam shouted, suddenly furious. “She’s my responsibility, I’m the one who released Lucifer, and now she's bound to me somehow. We’re taking her with us.”

Chrys was trying to sit up again.”Excuse you-”

“Shut up.” Sam snapped, his patience gone. He was surprised when she obeyed, but still glaring daggers at him.

“Get in the car,” he growled, stepping forward to grab her bag off of the ground.

She winced and looked down for a minute, then looked up at him. She looked like she was terrified. “I can’t,” she whispered apologetically. “My legs.”

He stepped toward her and bent, scooping her against his chest. “Fine, just be still.”

He bent, opened the door, and placed her into the backseat. When he let go of her, he saw her face tighten in pain. “What’s wrong? Tell me,” he ordered, seeing the mutinous look he was already becoming familiar with cross her face.

She grit her teeth. “It still hurts right now, residually, I guess.” She looked down.

Sam sensed that wasn’t the whole truth. “Chrys,” he growled.

“Unless you’re touching me.” She spat out angrily.

Resigned, Sam moved her gently and sat next to her, pulling her into his lap with her back against the door. When she opened her mouth to protest, he gave her a look. “Just shut up and sleep it off, Chrys.”

She was silent, but still stiff as a board. Sighing, Sam placed a hand gently on the side of her head and guided it to rest on his chest. “Relax, Chrys,” he said softly. “You’re safe.”

She stayed here, and gradually as they drove, he felt her relax, and then fall deeply asleep. Sam didn’t meet Dean’s eyes in the rear view, just looked out the window, his thoughts a jumbled mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This begins S5E2, after Lucifer rises.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	2. I'm Done, I'm Done

Chrys woke up gently, sensing that the car was slowing. She stayed where she was without opening her eyes for a moment. She couldn’t remember where she’d fallen asleep, but she knew that she was warmer and more comforted than she’d been in a long time.   
  
Then she registered the firm chest beneath her cheek, and the strong arms wrapped around her. Her eyes flew open as she sat up, not caring that she almost slammed into Sam’s chin. She looked around at where they were, pulling into the parking lot of the motel.   
  
“Why are we here?” she asked, eyeing the room the men had been staying in warily. Dean was still glaring through the windshield, so Chrys ignored him to look back at Sam.   
  
Which was a mistake. His handsome face was inches from hers, and those brown eyes were locked onto hers and short-circuiting her brain. She felt her heart beat faster, and dear Christ were her palms actually getting sweaty?   
  
She concentrated on what he was saying. “We came back to the motel. None of us actually got any sleep once you, uh, found us, so we figured we’d catch a few hours before heading out in the morning.”   
  
She frowned, battling the sudden and uncharacteristic shyness she felt as his proximity. “Heading out for what?”   
  
“To find Lucifer.”   
  
She stared at him, now in awe. “You’re serious.”   
  
“Yeah, we’re serious,” Dean snapped from the front. “Got any better ideas?”   
  
She frowned at him in the rear view, wishing she wasn’t sitting in his brother’s lap. “Try  _ any _ other ideas? What are you gonna do when you find him? Ask nicely that he goes back into the cage he’s been stuck in since the beginning of time?”   
  
Dean looked away, and she huffed. “That’s what I thought. We need to find a way to get rid of him before we find him.”   
  
Dean didn’t reply, just got out of the car and slammed the door. Leaving her alone with Sam.   
  
_ You are not a teenager, you are a grown woman, _ she reminded herself desperately. She turned to look back at him, caught off-guard again by how close he was.  _ You are going to tell him off for bossing you around, and you are going to leave. _   
  
“Thank you,” came out of her mouth instead. “It’s never been that bad before, the pain,” she explained softly, “So, you know, thank you. For not being a jerk about it.”   
  
He examined her for a minute, and Chrys was truly horrified to feel her face start to get hot. “So, if you were in pain last night, how did you deal before you found me? I mean, I’ve never met you. You weren’t, you know-“   
  
“In pain all the time?” she asked, a bitter smirk on her face. “Yeah, I was. It was mostly headaches, which I could deal with. But there were also some muscle spasms, and some soreness.” She frowned. “Hey, around two years ago, did something happen to you? Something out of the ordinary? Extreme?”   
  
He nodded slowly. “I, uh, I died. For a few days.”   
  
She blinked, the chuckled. “That would explain it.”   
  
“Explain what?”   
  
She smiled sadly. “I went into a coma for six months, Sammy. Just collapsed and didn’t wake up.”   
  
“Jesus,” he breathed, his eyes widening. “I’m sorry, I-“   
  
She put a hand on his chest and looked into his eyes. “Sam, don’t start apologizing for the pain I’ve been in, because if you do, we’re gonna be here for a while.”   
  
He was looking at her, then looked down at her hand on his chest. She snatched it away, blushing and looking down at her lap. Their closeness was suddenly too much. “Let’s get out of the car, Sam,” she said softly.   
  
“Uh, yeah, okay, yeah.”   
  
***   
  
Sam was lying awake in his bed, hands folded beneath his head, staring at the ceiling. He’d tried to do the gentlemanly thing and give Chrys the bed, but she had had none of it, just rolling out some blankets on the floor and turning to her side. Much to Sam’s irritation, the move had seemed to raise her esteem in Dean’s eyes, and he hadn’t snapped at her all evening.   
  
Sam was having trouble sleeping. His brother’s steady breathing from the other bed normally sent him right into slumber, but tonight was different. Maybe it was because he had just started the apocalypse. Maybe it was because he knew Dean was mad at him. But it was probably because he could tell Chrys was lying awake, too.   
  
He didn’t know if he believed her when she said that she was his soulmate, but seeing her unconscious on the ground had made a compelling case. She had been in some serious pain when they’d found her, but the ten minute car ride back to the motel, wrapped in his arms, had seemed to help. She’d barely been limping when they went back into the room.   
  
He was mostly leaning toward believing her, however, because of the pull he felt toward her.   
  
Her hand on his chest seemed to awaken something. He’d wanted to fall upon her, learn all of her body’s secrets, make her cry out his name as she came. He’d been shocked by the force of his feelings, and had been grateful when she’d suggested they get out of the car, because he’d been about two seconds from not being able to hide how he was feeling from her.   
  
And now, he was wide awake, listening to her breathing, wishing she was next to him. “Chrys,” he whispered.   
  
He watched her stiffen. “What?” she replied, without turning around.   
  
He suddenly felt awkward. “Uh, how are you feeling?”   
  
She sighed. “Fine, Sam. Go to sleep.”   
  
“I, uh, I don’t think I can.”   
  
She groaned and finally turned around. “Great. I’m bound to an insomniac. Things are going to get rough, Sammy. I get mean when I’m tired.”   
  
He scoffed. “You’re already mean.”   
  
She shrugged. “Fair.” She met his eyes. “What do you want me to do about it?”   
  
He thought about it for a moment, but he already knew what he wanted. “You could come sleep with me.”   
  
She paled. “What?”   
  
He turned and propped himself up on his elbow, turning the blankets back. “Just sleep, nothing else. I, uh,” he looked down, embarrassed. “I don’t think I can sleep without touching you.”   
  
She glared at him. “Tough. I’m not sleeping with you, Sam, Dean will kill me.”   
  
He frowned. “Dean won’t kill you, it will be fine.”   
  
Chrys rolled her eyes. “Sam, he hates me. He would not be thrilled if I was in bed next to his precious, sleeping, baby brother.”   
  
Sam bristled, irritated. “He’s not completely insane, Chrys, he’s just protective.”   
  
“Okay, fine. He protectively hates me. Either way, no dice.”   
  
He sighed. “Chrys, he’s just-“   
  
She held he hands up. “Sam, it’s okay. He hates me, and I get it. He can join the club, I hate me, too. But I’m not crawling into that bed with you, so suck it up, buttercup.”   
  
Sam frowned, examining her. She looked exhausted. He knew firsthand how tiring being in pain could be, and she had been in a lot of it earlier. He thought of the way she had responded when they found her, how she’d seemed to follow his orders. Dropping his voice lower, he met her eyes. “Chrys.”   
  
Her blue eyes widened, and she didn’t seem to be breathing. “What?”   
  
“Get over here and get into bed with me.”   
  
She seemed to struggle against it for a second, then she slowly got up and walked over to his bed. She was wearing the tank top from earlier and a pair of gym shorts, and Sam didn’t see any signs of underwear. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure this was a good idea.   
  
But she was already pulling the covers back and slipping in between them, doing her best not to touch him. “There, happy?” she snarled, looking away from him.   
  
“So, what, you’ve got some sort of submissive thing going on?” The question came out before he could help himself. He fought the arousal starting to heat his blood.   
  
She glared at him. “Have you ever met a less submissive person, Sam? No, I think…” She sighed and groaned, dropping her head back onto the pillow. “I think it has something to do with the bond. Lucifer probably knew I wasn’t going to go with you willingly, so he gave you… An out.”   
  
His eyebrows raised, and he felt a little guilty. “An out, huh? Okay. Um, well, I’ll try not to do it.”   
  
She rolled her eyes. “Ten seconds ago you did it to get me into bed. Excuse me if I don’t hold my breath.”   
  
He flushed, then shook it off. “Chrys, you weren’t sleeping, either, so don’t act like you don’t need it, too.” He shifted, and before she could protest, he turned her and pulled her close to him, his chest pressing into her back. She stiffened, and he wrapped his arm around her tightly. “Relax, Chrys. Go to sleep. We’ll… Figure everything else out in the morning.”   
  
***   
  
Chrys woke up early the next morning and was immediately irritated at how rested she felt, like sleeping next to him restored her. A long, strong arm was wrapped around her waist, and Sam’s face was buried in her hair. She squashed her heart’s attempt to flutter and slowly started to extract herself.   
  
Once she was successful, she looked around the room, at the two brothers still sleeping. She took the moment to examine them. Dean was shirtless, the covers tangled around his waist and legs. She looked at his bare chest, his muscled arms and shoulders, and the anti-possession tattoo he sported. He was yummy, no doubt.   
  
But  _ Sam. _ She didn’t know if it was the soulmate thing or what, but Sam was breathtaking. His wide shoulders, his long arms, those hands that looked like they knew what they were doing. His hair was mussed, framing his handsome face and his strong jaw.   
  
_ Good grief, get it together, _ she snapped at herself, suddenly turning to find her bag. She pulled a hoodie, her cell phone and headphones, and a pair of tennis shoes out of it. She was going to run this stupid nervous tension out of her system if it killed her.   
  
She knew she couldn’t go far, but around the building wouldn’t be a problem.   
  
_ I hope. _   
  
***   
  
Sam woke up and frowned. He was cold, and he shouldn’t be.  _ Where is Chrys? _   
  
His eyes flew open and he sat up, searching the room quickly for her. When he didn’t see her, he stood and pulled his clothes on haphazardly but silently, trying not to disturb Dean.   
  
When he opened the door, his eyes were immediately drawn to her. She was jogging around the parking lot with headphones in, her gaze glued to the ground as she ran.   
  
He took a moment to watch her. Her long, strong legs carried her quickly and easily. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and it swayed as she moved. Her skin was glowing with sweat and health. She was lovely.   
  
And he wanted those legs wrapped around him as she writhed beneath him. He wanted her hair to create a curtain around them when she leaned over him. He wanted her sweating and pleading and moving underneath him. He couldn’t think of a time he’d ever been so turned on.   
  
But since he couldn’t act on  _ that _ impulse, he acted on another. “Chrys!” he shouted.   
  
Her music must have not been very loud, because she turned to him immediately. She changed course and jogged toward him. “What are you yelling for?” she asked, stopping next to him and pulling her headphones out.   
  
He glared at her, trying not to watch her breathe. “What the hell are you doing?”   
  
She was starting to get mad, too. “First of all, whatever the hell I want. Second of all, I’m working out some frustration.”   
  
“You could have been hurt!”   
  
Her eyebrows went up. “By who? I’m Lucifer’s bride, Sam, no one is going to attack me.”   
  
“Well, what about people? What if someone tried to take you?”   
  
She looked at him closely. “Sam, I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I’m fine.”   
  
He opened his mouth to yell at her more, but was interrupted by her putting her hands in the air. “Look, I’m done, I’m done, I’ll come inside.”   
  
She brushed by him to walk inside, and Sam tried to convince himself that he wasn’t overwhelmed by her scent as she walked by.   
  
It didn’t work.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	3. You're So Firm

Chrys walked out of the bathroom, toweling her hair dry after her “run,” to Dean flipping through channels on the television.

“How would you then explain an earthquake, a hurricane, and multiple tornadoes, all at the same time, all around the globe?” The reporter was asking. Chrys stood where she was, watching with him.

“Two words. Carbon emissions.”

Chrys snorted at the same time Dean did, and shot him a smile.

As she did, a knock sounded through the room. The men pulled their guns, both of them taking positions in front of Chrys. She rolled her eyes. “The last person at the door was me, so how much worse could it possibly get?”

Sam opened the door to a wide-eyed young woman, who seemed to be having trouble breathing. She only had eyes for Sam, who looked concerned. “You okay, lady?”

“Sam… Is it really you?”

Sam looked confused and met Dean’s eyes, then Chrys’s. While he was doing that, the woman had stepped forward and placed a hand on Sam’s chest. “And you’re so firm.”

A feeling that she hadn’t ever really experienced came over Chrys. As a result, her eyes narrowed and she actually emitted a low growl. Dean shot an amused look over his shoulder at her, then turned back to the couple standing at the door.

“Uh, do I know you?”

The woman pulled back. “No. But I know you. You’re Sam Winchester. And you’re-“ she looked over at Dean. “Not what I pictured. I’m Becky.” The woman’s eyes landed on Chrys. “Who are you?” she asked coldly.

Chrys pushed by Dean and came to stand next to Sam, wrapping a possessive arm around his waist. He looked down at her, surprised, and she ignored him. “I’m Chrys, Sam’s girlfriend,” she said cheerfully.

Becky paled and stepped back, and part of Chrys was fiercely glad. _Hands off, lady._

“Oh, um… But what about Jess?”

Chrys looked up at Sam. “Jess?”

Sam looked wildly uncomfortable. “So what can we help you with, Becky?”

“Mr. Edlund told me you were here.”

“Chuck?” Dean asked, coming forward.

Sam hesitantly wrapped an arm around Chrys’ waist, and she tried to pretend that she couldn’t feel heat pooling in her belly as he used his arm to move her out of the way to shut the door.

“He’s got a message, but he’s being watched. Angels. Nice change-up to the mythology, by the way. The demon stuff was getting kind of old.”

Chrys looked up at Sam. “What the hell is she talking about?”

He looked down at her. “Tell you later.” He looked back at Becky. “What’s the message?”

“He had a vision. ‘The Michael sword is on earth. The angels lost it.’”

“The Michael sword?” Chrys asked, lost, and a little fuzzy-headed because of the heat radiating off of Sam. _The man is a furnace._

“Becky, does he know where it is?” Sam asked. Chrys squeezed him a little when he said the other woman’s name, a growl at the back of her throat. _And I, apparently, am a teensy bit possessive._

“In a castle, on a hill made of forty-two dogs.”

Dean frowned. “Forty-two dogs?”

“Are you sure you got that right?”

“It doesn’t make sense, but that’s what he said.” Becky stepped closer to Sam. “I memorized every word, for you.” Her hand reached out toward him.

Chrys had had enough. “Touch him again, Becky, and lose that arm,” she snarled.

Becky’s eyes widened and she took a quick step back. She glared at Chrys. “You’re unpleasant.”

Only Sam’s restraining arm around her kept Chrys from advancing. “You have no idea how unpleasant I can get, Becky.”

***

“Sam, he probably didn’t mean it,” Chrys said softly, walking next to him down the street. “I mean, I don’t know the guy-”

“No, you don’t, so could you butt out, Chrys?” he snapped.

She had met Bobby briefly before he’d told Sam to lose his number. Once Sam had confessed his role in the start of the apocalypse, they had left. Chrys had thought about hanging back, but she wasn’t sure how far away the church was. And, if she was going to be honest with herself, she didn’t want Sam to be alone right now.

“No,” she said evenly, trying to follow what her gut was telling her to do. “No, I’m not going to butt out. Bobby didn’t mean what he said. I mean, you kind of sprung it on him, Sammy.”

He whirled and glared down at her, deliberately towering. Chrys hated when tall men did that, tried to use their height to intimidate people. So she didn’t back down, just stepped forward until they were inches apart.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me ‘Sam?’” he gritted out.

She met his eyes. “As many times as I have to tell you that I don’t care.”

He stepped forward, closing the distance between them almost completely. “God dammit, Chrys, are you seriously going to fight me on everything? You’re such a bitch.”

That hurt, but Chrys didn’t let him know that. He needed this, he needed to get this anger out, and she was going to give him the outlet. “I will fight you every single thing with every breath I take,” she said evenly.

They glared at each other for a long moment, eyes sparking. Chrys barely had time to register the change in energy before they were at each other’s mouths. She wrapped her arms around his neck, relishing in the feel of his hard body pressed against her soft one. She whimpered into his mouth when his hands went to her ass, and moved without thinking to wrap her legs around his waist when he began to lift her.

He set her against the wall of the nearest building and leaned into her, letting his weight hold her up as his hands kneaded her ass. She gasped, and he used the advantage to sweep his tongue into her mouth, leaving her more breathless than before.

She used the advantage she had to pull his shirt up, running her hands along his muscled stomach and up his chest. He gave a shuddering breath at her touch. Emboldened, she flicked her fingernails over his nipple, smirking into his mouth when he moaned in the back of his throat.

He ground himself into her, making the hard length of him extremely clear. “Oh, fuck, Chrys,” He moaned, rolling his hips against hers and making her gasp.

She took his face in her hands and kissed him soundly, then pulled away. He pressed his forehead into hers. “Sam,” she said softly, “We can’t fuck here on the street.”

His eyes were still closed, and he stayed pressed against her. He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I know, you’re right.”

He shifted away from her, and she mourned the loss as she moved her legs down to stand next to him. He stepped back further and ran a hand through his hair, still undressing her with his eyes.

She fixed her clothes, then met his eyes. “Come on, Winchester,” she said cheerfully. “Let’s go find a way to ice the devil.”

They turned to walk back to the building, and Chrys blushed when Sam reached out and took her hand, seemingly without thinking about it. She hoped he couldn’t hear the rhythm her heartbeat was pounding out.

***

They arrived to pandemonium. Bobby was bleeding on the ground, a man was beating Dean, and there was a woman smirking at Sam.

“No!” Sam cried, dropping her hand and running forward.

“Heya, Sammy. You miss me? 'Cause I sure missed you,” the woman drawled.

“Meg?” he asked, horrified. Chrys came up to stand behind him.

Meg grinned. Sam swung at her, but missed. Meg hit him hard between the legs and knocked him to the ground. She turned on Chrys, and her eyes widened. “Our father’s bride,” she breathed out softly.

“Pleasure,” Chrys muttered, using the other woman’s surprise to lean back and punch her hard. Meg screeched and stumbled back, clutching her face.

“Chrys!” She turned at Dean’s cry, and caught the knife he threw at her. She flipped it to a more comfortable hold in her hand, then advanced on the demon. Black smoke poured out of the woman’s mouth, and the meat suit collapsed at Chrys’ feet.

***

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, life as an angel condom. That's real fun. I think I'll pass, thanks.”

Chrys snorted, keeping her eyes in the angel Zachariah. Angels made her nervous, as it turned out, and she felt like that was understandable. Especially since they had just told Dean he was Michael’s vessel.

“Joking. Always joking. Well… No more jokes.”

The angel raised a hand, fingers pointed like a gun at Dean. Then he shifted to Sam.

Without thinking about it, Chrys stepped in front of the tall hunter.

“Bang.”

Nothing happened. Zachariah glared at her, surprised. Then his eyes widened. “Lucifer’s little slut,” he spat out.

She let confidence she didn’t feel show on her face. “The one and only.” She moved quickly to stand in front of Dean, too, putting both men behind her and spreading her arms wide. “So, who saw your mojo not working on me coming?”

He glared, then his face changed a little. She closed her eyes, waiting for pain, or waiting for him to move around her to hit Sam.

Nothing happened again. She opened her eyes to see the angel glaring at her in shock and anger.

Her mind worked quickly, trying to figure out what was going on. She smiled. “Lucifer is an archangel. You can’t hurt me. He protected me.”

She felt her smile become feral. Chrys really liked winning, especially if she was protecting Sam. “You can’t even get around me to get to them.” She tilted her head, mind still moving a hundred miles an hour. “Are you, like, a secretary? Or maybe an assistant?”

Zachariah grit his teeth. “There is no other way. There must be a battle. Michael must defeat the serpent. It is written.”

Dean stayed behind Chrys, but he snorted. “Yeah, maybe. But, on the other hand... Eat me. The answer's no.”

“Okay. How about this? Your friend Bobby. We know he's gravely injured. Say yes, and we'll heal him. Say no, he'll never walk again.”

Chrys looked back at Dean, willing to follow his lead. This was his ballgame.

But he was shaking his head. “No.”

Suddenly, a bright light flashed behind the angel. One of the others that hadn’t given them a name collapsed, a bloody hole in his throat. A man with eyes as blue as the ones Chrys saw in the mirror stood next the fallen angel, then turned to fight another one. They fought, and the blue eyed man won that one, too.

The man walked forward, confronting Zachariah, who looked shocked. “How are you…”

“Alive? That's a good question. How did these two end up on that airplane? Another good question. 'Cause the angels didn't do it. I think we both know the answer, don't we?”

Zachariah was shaking his head. “No. That's not possible.”

“It scares you. Well, it should. Now, go. I won't ask twice.”

Zachariah vanished. Chrys blinked, but didn’t move from her position between the other man and the Winchesters.

He looked at her, brow furrowed. “Chrysanthemum Summers. Lucifer’s bride.”

She made a face. “For the love of God, call me Chrys.”

Dean snickered. “Chrysanthemum?”

“Can it. Next time I’ll let the angels have you.”

Sam came and stood next to her, looking at the other angel. “Speaking of, Cas, what just happened? Why couldn't he get to us?”

The man’s eyes hadn’t left hers. “Lucifer must have put protection magic around her. It is a fierce spell, I can see it. It wraps around her, and the two of you.”

Sam blinked. “Around the two of us?”

Castiel nodded. “I assume she has some modicum of control. She wanted to protect you, and it did.”

Chrys grinned. “Cool.”

Castiel frowned at all three of them. “When did you find one another?”

“Two nights ago,” Sam answered. “She says she’s my soulmate.”

Castiel nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. The bond has been twisted and perverted, but yes, she is.”

Chrys frowned. “Well, I’m Lucifer’s soulmate, anyway.”

“No. You are Sam’s. It is why Lucifer chose you. Without Lucifer, you and Sam would still be soulmates.”

***

Chrys was still reeling from the information the angel had relayed. In a world where everything was as it should be, where demons stayed in hell and angels stayed in heaven, she and Sam were soulmates.

She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help thinking about what they would be. She liked animals, maybe she’d have been a vet. He was strong, but smart. A doctor, maybe a lawyer.

As they walked out of the hospital, Sam speaking brought her out of her thoughts. “You know, I was thinking, Dean, maybe we could go after the Colt.”

“Why? What difference would that make?”

Chrys could sense where the conversation was going. She came to stand next to Sam as he spoke. “Well, we could use it on Lucifer. I mean, you just said back there-”

Dean scoffed. “I just said a bunch of crap for Bobby's benefit.” He stopped to look back at Sam. Chrys saw him examine the proximity between her and his brother, but he said nothing about it. “I mean, I'll fight. I'll fight till the last man, but let's at least be honest. I mean, we don't stand a snowball's chance, and you know that. I mean, hell, you of all people know that.”

Sam looked at his brother mournfully. “Dean, is there something you want to say to me?”

There was a long pause. This is going to hurt him. Chrys knew this wasn't going to be an easy conversation between them. Without thinking, she stepped forward and threaded her fingers through Sam’s,squeezing his big hand tightly. He didn’t respond, but his fingers did tighten around hers.

“I tried, Sammy. I mean, I really tried. But I just can't keep pretending that everything's all right. Because it's not. And it's never going to be. You chose a demon over your own brother and look what happened.”

Sam winced. “I would give anything,anything, to take it all back.”

She watched Dean run a frustrated hand through his hair. “I know you would. And I know how sorry you are. I do. But, man...You were the one that I depended on the most. And you let me down in ways that I can't even…” He struggled for words. “I'm just, I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here. You know?”

Sam looked distraught. Chrys said nothing as he squeezed her hand tighter and it started to ache. “What can I do?”

“Honestly? Nothing.”

Sam nodded and looked down, not releasing the death grip on Chrys’s hand.

Dean spoke again. “I just don't… I don't think that we can ever be what we were. You know?”

Sam nodded again.

“I just don't think I can trust you.”

Chrys put it down to her years of managing pain that she didn’t cry out or wince at the vise grip Sam had on her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	4. Since the Moment I Met You

Dean woke up before Sam the next day, already in a bad mood, for which he felt justified. His brother had started the apocalypse.

After a shower, but before he opened a beer, he realized that Chrys wasn’t in the room. _Well, she didn’t go far._

He grabbed his jacket and the room key and stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind him. He looked around the parking lot and didn’t see her. Scowling, he walked around the building, and found her leaning against the wall on the other side.

He backed up quickly, before she saw him, and took his time looking at her. She had her back against the wall, one leg cocked and her foot against the wall. Her long skirt billowed around her, and her hair was spilling over her shoulder again. He couldn’t figure out why she was there until her hand came to her mouth and he saw the cigarette in it.

Despite himself, Dean found that he was warming to Chrys. She didn’t let him or Sam bully her, which he appreciated even as it irritated him. She was no-nonsense, and had a sharp mouth on her, but he was starting to begrudgingly be glad she was on their side. On Sammy’s side, more specifically.

And it helped that she was hot, in a sort of, “I will rip your spine out through your mouth,” kind of way. Dean generally preferred softer women, but he could appreciate Chrys’s willowy frame, her flat stomach, and strong limbs.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he came and stood next to her, cocking an eyebrow. “Bad habit.”

She exhaled away from him and gave him a small smile. “Filthy, really. Slowly killing me, I suspect.” She punctuated her sarcasm with a deep drag.

He chuckled and leaned next to her, facing her. “How you doing, _Chrysanthemum?”_

She groaned and hit him on the shoulder. “I will stab you, Winchester. My parents were hardcore hippies, leave me alone.”

He grinned at her, then sobered. “Seriously, kiddo, how you holding up?”

She was silent for a long time, smoking. Dean let her be. He knew what it was like to have your world turned around. It took time.

Finally, she spoke. “I don’t know. I mean, I knew it was going to happen, I knew I’d be… Compelled to come to Sam. But I always knew who I was, what I was. I never even considered that Sam didn’t. Demons have been talking to me since childhood.”

She frowned. “And now I find out that Lucifer is protecting me, and by extension, you guys. So am I grateful? Irritated? Do I get to feel anything about it at all?”

“And on _top_ of all of _that,_ I find out that the man I love, in a perfect world, would love me back. Instead, we have to fight Lucifer, we’ll probably both die, and we’ll drag you down in the process.” She ran a hand through her long hair, shaking it out at the ends. “So, in conclusion, I don’t know what you guys have faced before, but you should know we’re royally fucked. Lucifer is like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

Dean’s eyebrows had shot to his hairline at her confession, but he didn’t mention it. She didn’t seem to realize she’d told him that she was in love with Sam, and Dean was glad. He sensed that she would be upset, and for some reason, he didn’t want that.

“Well, yeah, obviously,” he said instead. “But as far as what we’ve faced, I have a very interesting book series for you…”

***

Sam was sitting at the small motel table, watching Chrys read “Supernatural” on the bed. She was intent, her eyes flicking back and forth quickly as she absorbed the last four years of his life.

She really was beautiful. Sam had had to fight down the spurt of jealousy in his heart when Dean and Chrys had come in together earlier, laughing like they were friends. Not that it made sense for him to be jealous of his brother’s relationship with a woman they’d known for less than a week, but he was. She was _his,_ dammit.

Knowing he was being unfair, Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Anything interesting?”

She looked up and he was surprised to see her eyes were a little wet. “All of it is interesting, Sam. The insight into the Winchesters is pretty fascinating.” She chuckled. “It’s nice to know that you guys don’t know what you’re doing any more than I do.”

“You okay?” he asked, concerned.

She sniffed and looked away. “Yeah, I’m fine, Sammy. It’s just a lot to take in. You guys have been through a lot.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, well, that’s not even everything.”

She nodded. “Chuck left out the parts about you drinking demon blood.”

Sam blinked. “How do you know about that?”

“Dean told me.”

Anger started to burn beneath Sam’s skin. “Dean, huh? You two seem to be… Chatty.”

She rolled her eyes and stood. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

He stared at her, a little surprised when she met his gaze evenly. He easy a big guy, he was used to people being intimidated by him, but Chrys never seemed to be. “Of course not.”

She grinned. “Oh, my God, you _are_ jealous. That’s… Ridiculous, Sam. _Obviously._ What with the built in, ‘I couldn’t be with someone else if I tried’ thing I’ve got going on.”

Sam knew she was right. He didn’t know what had come over him. He told himself to apologize for being an ass.

Instead, he stood and walked to her slowly, predatory, relishing in the widening of her eyes and the quickening of her breath. He came to stand close to her, deliberately towering over her, watching her stand perfectly still.

 _“Is_ it obvious, Chrys?” he asked softly, dangerously.

She looked up at him and nodded. “Yes.”

“Show me.”

She surprised him again by grabbing his collar and pulling him down to her mouth, kissing him roughly. It took a moment for his brain to catch up, but when it did, he took her face between his hands and took control. He tilted her head back further, nipping at her bottom lip, absorbing the pretty sounds she was making.

He slid his hands down to her hips, then lifted her and tossed her down onto the bed, grinning at her squeal. He quickly covered her body with his, laying sloppy kisses on her chest and neck until he was at her mouth again.

She was moaning underneath him, her fingers tunneling through his hair to hold him close, fighting him. He growled and bit her lip harder to show his displeasure. She whimpered into his mouth, but didn’t take her hands from him, just tightened her grip and fought harder.

He ground his hips into hers, moaning in appreciation when her legs fell open wider and she brought her knees up around his hips. He ran a hand down and palmed her breast, giving another moan when he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. He let go of her mouth to go down and take her nipple between his teeth through her shirt, tugging gently.

Her back arched hard. _“Sam,_ oh, God-”

He growled again, possessiveness and satisfaction thrumming through him. This was what he had wanted, her moving beneath him, calling out his name.

He kissed his way back up to her face and kissed her deeply, sweeping his tongue into her mouth. He pulled away and leaned down to whisper in her ear as he ground himself against her. “Do you want me, Chrys?”

She moved to press against him, and he almost gave her a moan when he felt her heat pressing into the hard length of him. “Yes, oh, God, yes,” she panted.

He took the lobe of her ear into his teeth and tugged. “Say it, Chrys, tell me you want me.”

She looked into his eyes, and Sam felt himself drowning in the lust blown blue that was there. Her teeth were digging into her bottom lip, and her hair was wild, spread around them on the bed. All other noise faded into the background as she opened her mouth.

“I want you, Sam.”

“And now I’m scarred forever,” Dean said from behind them.

Chrys gasped, then buried her face in Sam’s chest, laughing softly. “That’s what you get for not knocking, Dean,” she said, her lilting voice muffled against Sam.

Sam propped himself up on his elbow and rolled to his side, pulling Chrys with him. She stayed hidden, still chuckling, and Sam looked at his brother.

Dean looked disgusted. “I’m never going to recover.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You’re fine, Dean.”

Dean turned away, shooting a look at Sam. “Get dressed, kids, we’re going out.”

***

“Dean, I just don’t know if this is a great idea. We should be tracking down Lucifer, not-”

Chrys’s hand on his arm stopped Sam’s thought. He looked down at her, his lips automatically tugging up into a smile when he saw her doing the same. “Sam,” she said softly. “You guys need to unwind.”

He examined her eyes. “What about you?”

She looked away. “I’m always unwound.”

They were in a little dive bar. There were only a few tables and a few barstools. A tiny stage graced one corner, and the rest of the floor was open for dancing. Sam watched as a few couples ground on one another.

Chrys smiled. “I love this song.”

Sam listened, but didn’t recognize it. Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on, lovebirds, I need a drink.”

***

Dean and Sam were sitting at the bar, and Chrys was standing between them. She was facing the crowd, her elbows placed on the bar, and she was watching the people when someone cried out.

Sam tensed, and then realized the emotion in the high-pitched squealing: Joy.

“Chrysanthemum Summers, as I live and breathe!” A small woman with short hair ran at Chrys, who laughed and hugged her.

“Serene! Oh, my God, how are you? How are you here?”

Serene stepped back and looked Chrys up and down. “We’re the band tonight. You look good, Chrys.” Sam frowned at the undertone in the statement, like the woman had expected something to be wrong with Chrys.

Chrys smiled. “I am good, Serene. How are you? Where’s Kevin? And Tom?”

Serene’s face fell. “Oh, God, Chrys, I’m so sorry.”

Sam watched his soulmate’s shoulders droop. “Tom?”

Serene nodded. “A few months ago. He, uh, he OD’d, Chrys.”

Sam stood and came to wrap an arm around Chrys, without quite realizing what he was doing. When he felt her shoulders start to shake, he pulled her into him. “Hey, come here,” he said softly.

She looked up at him, tears brimming in her pretty eyes. “Sorry, Sammy, um, Tom was kind of an old flame. From my days, um, before you,” she said evasively. Sam frowned, but relaxed a little when she wrapped an arm around his waist.

Serene nodded, then took Chrys’s hand. “But Kev is here. Please come say hi to Kev? Please? He’s been impossible without you.”

Chrys gave a wet chuckle. “He was impossible with me, too.”

***

“So, Sam, how did you meet Chrys?”

Chrys’s little tribe was not what Sam had expected. They were friendly, warm people, who accepted his presence without question. They also accepted the bond between he and Chrys, although neither of them would say they were together. Sam didn’t know _what_ they were, so the lack of pressure to define their status worked for him.

“Well, she punched me in the face, and then it… It was like it was meant to be.” He finished vaguely.

Kevin laughed and nodded. He was tall, almost as tall as Sam, with sandy blonde hair and friendly brown eyes. He was rail thin, wearing ratty t-shirt and jeans, and a stocking cap on his head. “Yeah, that sounds like Chrys, all right.”

“So, uh, how do you know her?”

Kevin looked at Sam closely for a second. Sam looked back. Kevin seemed to come to a decision. “How much do you actually know about Chrys, Sam?”

“Why don’t you tell me what I need to know?”

Kevin sat back in the booth they were sitting at, cradling his beer. “Chrys is… Chrys is the best, Sam. She’s been through some terrible shit. Some _terrible_ fucking shit. And she came out on the other side. She’s hard on the outside, but she’s a big ol’ softy on the out.”

Sam examined the other man. “What shit?”

Kevin shook his head. “Not my story, friend. Not my story to tell.” He looked at Sam solemnly for a minute. “But I can tell you this. Chrys saved a few lives, and she sure as hell saved  mine. If you let her, she’ll save you, too. Be mean as hell about it, but she’ll save you.”

Sam looked down. “Not sure I deserve to be saved.”

“Doesn’t matter, friend. Chrys’ll save you anyway.”

***

“So why are you guys here?” Chrys asked Serene, mindlessly enjoying Sam’s warmth next to her in the booth they had snagged.

Serene shrugged. “We’re kind of on the road. Got a few gigs, travel around. The life.”

Chrys looked at her sharply. Serene had fought her hard when it came to recovery. “The life, or the _life?”_

Serene smiled. “Hush, mother hen. Just the band life, nothing else. The strongest thing I ingest these days is coffee.”

Chrys smiled. “Good.”

Kevin looked at Chrys fondly. “We miss you, Summers.”

Chrys stiffened. She had known leaving a note in the middle of the night was a bullshit way to leave. She still felt guilty about it. But she had started to fall in love with the little family they’d created. She’d started to love taking care of them, proud of their recovery and hers. Once she’d realized that, she knew she was in trouble. So she’d gotten out.

“It was time to move on, Kevin,” she said softly, looking away. Sam seemed to sense her distress, because he casually lay an arm around her shoulders.

Kevin snorted. “After a year?”

“Kevin,” Serene said sharply. “Stop it, this isn’t helping.” Chrys met Serene’s eyes. Serene smiled. “What have you been up to, baby?”

Chrys smiled. “Little of this, little of that. Bartended, waited on tables. Became a citizen of the Earth.” She smiled and turned to Sam, begging him with her eyes to go along with it. “Until I met Sammy, here, and then that was that.”

Serene smiled. “That’s beautiful. What do you guys do now?”

Chrys didn't even have time to panic when Sam answered smoothly. “Pest control.”

***

Sam watched Chrys light up a cigarette, refraining from commenting on the habit. Talking to Kevin and Serene had shaken her. He would bitch about it another time.

He saw goosebumps rising on her arms. He didn’t realize he’d taken his coat off until he was draping it around her shoulders. This soulmate thing was weird.

She smiled at him, surprised. “Thanks, Sammy.”

He leaned against the wall next to her. “How did you meet Kevin and Serene?”

She was quiet for a long time. “That’s getting into some pretty heavy shit, Sam, some ‘deepest darkest secrets’ shit. We’ve only known each other a week, you sure you’re up for that?

He shrugged. “I single-handedly set Lucifer free. How bad could it be?”

She frowned at him. “You were tricked, Sam. You didn’t do it on purpose, and it certainly wasn’t ‘single-handed.’”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t change the subject.”

She smiled, then looked away from him. “My parents died when I was nineteen. We weren’t close, they didn’t understand. They thought I was being dramatic when I called myself Lucifer’s bride.” She smiled coldly. “But as much as they didn’t get me, they tried. And they were the only things keeping me together.”

“After they died, I was… I was just in so much pain. I _hated_ myself. I kept thinking, ‘what kind of person do you have to be for Lucifer himself to choose you?’ I couldn’t handle it. So I started to look for ways to numb the pain.”

She lifted the arm not holding the cigarette and pushed the sleeve of Sam’s coat up to reveal the crook of her elbow. Sam bent close and saw tiny white scars peppering the crease. “Drugs.”

She nodded, still avoiding his gaze. Sam frowned, surprised at how much he didn’t like her not looking at him. “Anything I could get my hands on. I wasn’t picky, and I got myself hospitalized a few times. God, I just wanted to die, but I was so afraid that if I died it would just… Jump-start being the bride of the devil.”

“I finally realized that no one was going to come save me. I had to save myself. So I decided to get clean. I was staying with Kevin, Serene, and Tom at the time, and when I got home from that last hospital visit, I realized that they were in trouble, too.”

She chuckled dryly. “So I started dragging them to NA meetings. They hated it, and Serene actually physically fought me once, but once they were there, they started to get it. They didn’t quit for me, I didn’t make them quit. You can’t quit for anyone but yourself, everything else will fall through. So I sat with them through meetings, we held each other through withdrawals, and we finally started getting our shit together.”

She looked up at him, finally, and he hated the tears he saw there. He immediately stepped close and wrapped his arms around her. She sniffed, burying her face into his chest. “I just, I realized one morning that I was happy, that I loved these people. But I didn’t get to have a life, or friends, because someday, I would be called to you, and I would have to leave. It would have killed them. So I left before it would get worse. It sucked, but by that point, I was ready to try to find a way to break the bond with Lucifer, and it was for the best.”

Sam rested his chin on top of her head. “You can have friends, Chrys. You don’t have to be alone.”

“I’m not anymore. I’ve got you and Dean, whether you like it or not.”

***

That night, Chrys lay awake on the floor, turned away from the beds. Her thoughts were still racing. It had been wonderful to see Serene and Kevin, but Tom’s death hurt, especially since it was an OD.

“Chrys.”

“Sam,” she said back, not turning around.

He sighed, and she rolled her eyes. _Nobody ever talks about what drama queens the Winchesters are._

“Chrys, are we going to do this every night?”

She rolled over and looked at him. “Sam, I slept just fine for over two decades without you. I do not _need_ you to sleep. I’m just wired.”

He propped himself on his elbow, looking down at her. “What if it’s not your sleep I’m worried about?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Willing to admit that you need me, Winchester?”

He chuckled. “Come on, Chrys, just come here, please?”

She sighed and stood, dimly grateful that he hadn’t ordered her to. She slipped between the blankets next to him, resisting the urge to cuddle with him. “Better?”

Her resistance was useless, because he immediately pulled her toward him, her chest pressed to his. She nestled her head under his chin, hesitantly draping her arm around his waist. He was so freaking _warm._

“So, uh, who’s Tom?” he asked, trying for casual and failing miserably.

She stiffened and tried to pull away, but his arms were like steel around her. “Come on, Chrys, I don’t want to upset you, I’m just curious.”

She leaned back a little and looked up at him. “Why?”

He looked down at her, and she saw confusion in his brown eyes. “I honestly have no idea.”

She examined him for a minute. This soulmate thing was _weird,_ if it was making him jealous of someone who was dead. “Tom and I were kind of together for a while, before I got clean.” She smiled, remembering Tom’s sweet smile and soft touch. “He was very kind, he had a very gentle nature. I… I loved him as much as I could. But I was so wrapped up in my own pain, I couldn’t even begin to think about really being with someone. He was the same way. We just weathered the storm together.”

Sam looked down at her, and Chrys became really aware of how close their faces were for the first time. She felt a blush rising on her cheeks. “What was he like?” he asked softly.

She smiled. “He was wonderful. He had this way of keeping people up when they wanted to be down. He was the first person ever to tell me I was pretty,” she whispered, lost in memories.

Sam scoffed. “Come on, Chrys, you know you’re beautiful.”

Her world came to a halt. Her eyes widened, and she felt her heartbeat start to race. “You… You think I’m beautiful.”

The look in his eyes took her breath away. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Since the moment I met you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This was a long one. Mostly character establishment.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	5. And You Aren't Invited

Chrys winced when Bobby started to shout. “‘Unlikely to walk again?!’ Why, you snot-nosed son of a bitch! Wait till I get out of this bed!”

The doctor fled, and Bobby continued to shout. “I’ll use my game leg and kick your friggin’ ass! Yeah, you’d better run!”

Chrys chuckled quietly, standing behind Sam, and next to Dean. They were in Bobby’s hospital room, watching him berate the doctor who had come to give him bad news. This was much more like the person she’d read about, and that the boys had told her about.

Bobby swivelled his head and turned to glare at the three of them. “You believe that yahoo?”

Chrys stepped forward and smiled. “Fuck him, Bobby. You’ll be fine.”

He looked at Sam. “I like her.”

Sam smiled. “Yeah, me, too.” Chrys’s heart fluttered. “So, let me ask the million dollar question. What do we do now?”

Bobby signed. “Well… We save as many people as we can for as long as we can, I guess. It’s bad. Whoever wins, heaven or hell, we’re boned.”

Chrys shifted uncomfortably. Heaven didn’t stand a chance against Lucifer. She’d had personal conversations with the angel, she held out no hope that even the Winchesters could win.

Dean looked at Bobby. “What if we win?”

Three heads turned to look at him. He met each of their eyes individually. “I'm serious. I mean, screw the angels and the demons and their shitty apocalypse. Hell, they want to fight a war, they can find their own planet. This one's ours, and I say they get the hell off it. We take 'em all on. We kill the devil. Hell, we even kill Michael if we have to. But we do it our own damn selves.”

Bobby cocked an eyebrow. “And how are we supposed to do all this, genius?”

Dean shrugged. “I got no fuckin’ idea. But what I do have is a GED and a give ‘em hell attitude, and I’ll figure it out.” He stood.

Bobby gave a reluctant chuckle. “You are nine kinds of crazy, boy.”

Dean nodded as he clapped Bobby on the shoulder. “It’s been said. Listen, you stay on the mend. We’ll see you in a bit.” He walked out.

Sam placed a hand on the small of Chrys’s back, and they walked toward the door to follow.

Bobby’s words stopped them. “Sam?”

Sam stopped and turned.

“I was awake. I know what I said back there. I just want you to know that… That was the demon talking. I ain't cutting you out, boy. Not ever.”

Chrys smiled when Sam sighed. She knew those words had been weighing on him since he’d heard them, and it was good to know that Bobby wasn’t the kind of man to back out when things got hard. “Thanks, Bobby,” he said softly.

Bobby nodded. “You’re welcome. I deserve a damn medal for this, but… You’re welcome.”

They turned again to walk out, but Bobby stopped them again. “Chrys, hang back for a sec.”

Sam frowned and stayed where he was. “Go, Sam,” she said softly. “I’ll be fine. Just don’t leave me here, or Bobby and I will be sharing a room,” she joked, gently pushing him out the door. “Go.”

Once Sam had left, she turned back. “What can I do you for, Bobby?”

He frowned. “What are you doing here? I never got the exact story.”

She sighed and sat on his bed next to him. “That’s a _long_ story, Bobby, and all three of you guys need sleep.”

“Give me the condensed version, then.”

She sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. “I’m Sam’s soulmate. Lucifer somehow got me more bound to Sam than normal soulmates, and I think somehow got me bound to Lucifer himself, too. I’m considered, loosely translated, ‘Lucifer’s brood mare.’ So being away from Sam is painful for me, physically.”

He examined her for a long moment, and she fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. “Whose side you on?” he asked gruffly.

“Sam’s,” she said without a moment’s hesitation. “Sam’s side, wherever he lands. I’m rooting for him to find a way to ice the devil, but either way, I’m stickin’ with the taller one.”

He nodded. “Good.” An uncomfortable silence stretched out, and Chrys let it. She sensed that Bobby wasn’t done with her, and she was content to wait.

“Look, Sam’s going to need a lot of help through this,” Bobby said quietly. “He fucked up, he knows it. And Dean ain’t gonna go easy on him. So I don’t know what kind of relationship you guys have, but if you’re really his soulmate-”

She stopped him by placing her hand on his, meeting his eyes. “I will do everything in my power to make sure that Sam is okay, Bobby,” she said softly. “Between you and I, I’m in love with him, Bobby. I’m sticking here, fighting with you guys.” She smiled and stood up, stemming her tears from long years of practice. “So get used to me, Singer, you’ll be seeing a lot of me.”

He examined her for a minute, then, “Good,” he said gruffly. “Now get outta here, I need my beauty sleep.”

She grinned and leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek. “Damn right,” she said softly.

***

The men were already in the parking lot when she found them. She heard the tail end of their conversation.

“I'm just, I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here. You know?” Dean was saying.

Sam’s shoulders were tense. Chrys sensed that this wasn’t a conversation she was meant to hear, but she came forward anyway, placing a hand on Sam’s arm as she came up next to him. “What can I do?” he asked brokenly.

Dean looked at him evenly. “Honestly, nothing. I just don’t… I just don’t think we can ever be what we were, you know?”

Sam nodded and looked down.

“I just don’t think I can trust you.”

Sam’s head snapped up, and the look on his face tore at Chrys’s heart. “Okay, that’s my cue,” she said softly. She met Dean’s eyes, and while the pain there upset her greatly, her priority was Sam. “Let’s go find a motel and crash, boys. Separate rooms. Let’s all just take a breath, okay? Back at it tomorrow.” She gave Dean a weak smile. “Go on ahead, Dean. I have some cash, we’ll get a cab.”

He nodded after examining her for a moment, and she thought she saw gratitude in his eyes. He got into the Impala, started her, and drove away without another word.

She turned to Sam. “Come on, Winchester, let’s go get a room.”

He looked down at her, seemingly not hearing her. “Chrys…” he whispered sadly.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. His arms came around her and crushed her to his chest, his chin resting on her head. “God, Chrys, I…”

“You fucked up, Sammy,” she said softly, not letting go when he stiffened. “You fucked up, and Dean needs some time. Let’s try to give it to him, okay?” She looked up into his eyes. “Come on, let’s go get a room, Sam.”

He stayed where he was for a moment, and she gently pulled his phone out of his back pocket, leaning back a little to call a cab. “It’s okay, handsome,” she murmured reaching up to put a hand on his face as she pressed the phone to her other ear. “I’ll take care of everything.”

***

Sam was silent the whole cab ride to the motel. The only clue she had to his shift in mood was the way he tensed when they saw the Impala in the parking lot. Dean was in the same motel. Chrys didn’t say anything about it, just tugged Sam toward the room she had booked for them.

She got them in and settled. When she turned to talk to Sam, he was already at her mouth. She gasped, her mind racing to catch up with his roaming hands and his insistent lips. She gave up and just kissed him back.

He pushed her back until her knees hit the bed. She squeaked and fell back, a little overwhelmed. _He should know,_ she thought nervously. “Sam, I-”

“I need you, Chrys,” He said hotly, crawling up her body slowly. “Please, I don’t understand, but I need you.”

She was helpless against the begging in his eyes. _Well, maybe he doesn’t need to know._

So she nodded and ran her hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders. “Okay, Sam.”

He kissed her hard, shifting to rest his weight on one arm. The other hand went to her waist, running it up her stomach, pushing her shirt up with it until he cupped her breast. She gasped at his hot moan when he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. “Jesus, Chrys, do you ever wear underwear?”

She laughed softly. “No,” she said with a smirk, meeting his eyes. “That a problem, Winchester?”

Instead of answering, he bent his head to tug her nipple into his mouth. She moaned and arched her back, tunneling her fingers through his soft hair and holding his head to her. _“Fuck,_ Sam!”

She felt him grin against her breast, then he moved over to pay her other one the same attention. She writhed beneath him, panting.

He suddenly sat up, his eyes dark and his chest heaving. “Take your clothes off, Chrys,” He said roughly.

Heat spiraled through her, making her dizzy. She sat up and stripped her shirt off, never breaking their eye contact. She lay back and lifted her hips to push her long skirt off of her hips. She kicked it off and lay back on her elbows. She thought briefly about being self conscious, but ignored it. She knew she looked good naked, fuck it.

“Now you,” she said softly, cocking an eyebrow.

He reached behind his head to pull his shirt off, and she inhaled sharply. _Sweet Mary, mother of God._ He was _perfect_. Every muscle in a man’s stomach that made smart girls dumb was clearly defined on Sam. Every muscle moved when he reached down undo his belt buckle, and she got dizzy again.

She tore her eyes away from his incredible torso back up to his face. She narrowed her eyes when she saw the smug smirk on his face. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who knew what she looked like naked. She shrugged. “You’re all right,” she said, letting the heat in her voice take the bite from her words.

“Well you’re spectacular,” he said softly, undoing his pants and pushing them down. He reached down and rustled through his pockets, coming back up with a condom in his hand. He put it between his teeth and stepped out of his jeans, crawling up the bed until he was face to face with her.

She kept her eyes on his, suddenly much more nervous than she had been. She tried to cover by leaning up to press her lips against jaw. He gave a shuddering breath and rested his weight one one arm again, letting his other hand travel down her body.

She gasped when one thick finger ran through her wet folds. She was very glad he wasn’t looking at her face, worried that he would see surprise.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he muttered, leaning down lay kisses down her neck.

“Oh, God, Sam,” she moaned, writhing when his finger slowly sank into her. _“Fuck.”_

“Do you like that, beautiful?” he whispered hotly in her ear, sending more heat coursing through her.

_“Sam.”_

“Say it, beautiful, tell me you like it.”

Blushing, she let her eyes fluttered closed. “Yes, I like it,” she whispered.

He smiled against her ear, slipping a second finger into her. “Good girl,” he whispered.

She was whimpering, her hips moving in rhythm with his hand. There was a hot, tightly sprung coil in her belly, it was coiling tighter and tighter, but it wasn't _enough._ “Please, Sam, please.”

His fingers picked up their pace and he smiled against her ear again. “Please what, beautiful? Tell me what you want, beautiful, and I can give it to you.”

She whimpered, suddenly shy again. _If you had spoken up…_

She shook her thoughts away internally, and met his eyes. She’d always been a “face it head on” kind of girl, anyway. “Fuck me, Sam, please,” she begged softly, relishing the way his already dark eyes darkened at her words.

Then he grinned. “Good girl.”

He slipped his fingers out of her, and she whined in the back of her throat at the loss. She watched as he sat back, ripping the foil packet with his teeth and rolling the condom on.

Chrys tried hard to keep a poker face when her eyes landed on his cock. _Sweet Jesus._ He was huge there, just like he was huge everywhere else. _That is not gonna fit._ The truth was on the tip of her tongue again, a trickle of fear dampening the heat in her belly.

She didn’t get the chance before he moved quickly, kneeling between her legs. “I swear, Chrys, it will be different next time,” he promised roughly as he put his big hands under her knees and pulled her closer. “I just can’t tonight, God, I need you so much, beautiful.”

His words both soothed and scared her more. But the naked need in his face killed the words she had been about to speak. She needed so much to be there for him, in whatever way he needed her. “It’s okay, Sammy, it’s okay.”

He nodded and lined himself up with her entrance, the tip of his cock slipping through her hot folds. Her eyes fell shut and she sighed deeply.

“Look at me, beautiful,” he said softly.

She wouldn’t be able to shield her emotions from him if she looked at him. “Just fuck me, Sam, God.”

He growled and gripped her legs tighter. He entered her slowly, both of them gasping. Chrys had never felt anything like it, she was being…. Stretched. Filled.

Just before he was buried in her completely, she felt a twinge of pain, and couldn’t keep the wince off of her face. He stilled in her. “Chrys?”

“I’m fine, Sam,” she said softly.

“This isn’t going to be gentle, beautiful,” he hushed. “You need to tell me if you’re in pain.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay, Sam.”

“Look at me, Chrys.”

She gathered herself for a moment, then tilted her head up to look at him, trying to put the get the heat back into her eyes. “Sam. For fuck’s sake, just _do something.”_

He examined her face for another moment, then nodded. “Fine, beautiful.”

He moved out of her, and she barely got a moan out before he was filling her again. He set a punishing pace, leaned back and slamming into her. It wasn’t long before the heat was back for real. Chrys didn’t know what the hell she was doing, but she listened to her body and moved her hips in rhythm with his, gasping in unison with him when new sensations wracked her body.

The coil was back, tighter and tighter until she was writhing again. “Fuck, Sam!”

He moved quickly again, moving to rest his body over hers. One of his hand moved down, and his finger started its dance on her clit again. He leaned down and bit her neck, and she cried out when he sucked hard, knowing he was marking her. She was _so_ close, and even if she was fuzzy on exactly what it was she was close to, she knew she wanted it, and she knew Sam could get her there.

“Do you want to come, beautiful?” He rasped into her ear, his fingers increasing their pressure.

“Yes, Sam, please!”

“Then do it,” he growled.

Chrys’s world shattered, and she tilted her head back and screamed as she came. _“Sam!”_

His rhythm became erratic, and she gasped when he bit her neck again, moaning into her as he came and she calmed down.

After a moment, he gave a shuddering breath and rolled onto his back, hooking an arm arm around her to to pull her with him. She settled herself on his chest, smiling down at him. “Hi,” she said softly, her shyness returning.

He chuckled, and she felt the rumble in his chest. “Hey, beautiful.” He moved his hand up to brush her hair away from her face. His hand moved behind her head and wrapped her hair in his hand, pulling it up to drape over her shoulder and spill onto his chest. “Have I ever told you that I _love_ your hair?”

She shook her head, entranced. “No, you haven’t.”

“Well, I do,” he whispered, running his hand through the black, wavy locks.

She blushed and sat up. “I’m gonna go clean up, and you aren’t invited.”

Before he could respond, she jumped up and moved quickly into the bathroom. She spun and locked the door, then set her back against it and slid down to the floor. She buried her head in her hands and let the tears come, thanking the powers that be that she knew how to cry without making a sound.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

***

Sam frowned, surprise pinning him to the bed. _Um… What just happened?_

He reviewed what had happened, and could find nothing wrong. It had been great, earth shattering sex, and he knew she had come. A woman didn’t scream like that if she wasn’t orgasming.

He heard the shower start and stood up, pulling the condom off, tying it, and tossing it into the trash.

He would wonder for years why he didn’t see the traces of blood on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	6. Speak of the Angel

The second time Sam woke her up, it didn’t hurt at all, though it was just as desperate as the first time.

***

The third time, Chrys fought with herself for a few minutes, then woke him up with his cock in her mouth. He woke up moaning, his hands fisted in her hair. That time didn’t hurt, either, but Sam did leave a pleasant ache in his wake, as well as hickeys on her neck and thighs.

***

The next morning, the two of them stood outside of Bobby’s hospital room, waiting for Dean to come back. Sam was standing behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, pressing her back into his chest. Chrys couldn’t remember feeling this… Happy.

Dean approached with an envelope in his hands. Chrys ignored his cocked eyebrow and pointed to it. “What’s that?”

He opened the envelope and pulled out the contents. “Went to radiology, got some glamour shots. He handed the paper to her so she could hold it up to the light for both she and Sam. “Let’s just say the doctors are baffled.”

She tilted her head and looked at the x-ray. “That’s Enochian, some sort of protection,” she said thoughtfully.

Dean stared at her. “How the hell do you know that?”

She stared back. “I did a fuckton of research on angels, that’s how.”

He shot her a bitchface. “Whatever, he did it to you two, too.”

Sam’s phone rang, interrupting her and Dean’s staring contest. _Dick._

“Hello? Castiel?”

“Speak of the angel,” Chrys said cheerfully.

Sam ignored her. “Ah, St. Martin’s Hospital. Why? What are you… Cas?”

Castiel appeared behind them. Dean whirled around. “Cell phone, Cas? Really? Since when do angels need to reach out and touch someone?”

“You’re hidden from angels now. _All_ angels. I won’t be able to simply-” He stopped talking, staring at Chrys.

She frowned. “What?”

“You’re impure now.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

“You’re impure.” He looked up at Sam, who had stiffened behind her. “Do you think it’s wise to fornicate with the bride of Lucifer, Sam?”

Dean stared at Chrys. “What the hell is he talking about?”

 _So much for happiness._ “Oh, fuck no,” she snapped. “Oh, _absolutely_ not. I am not talking about my sex life with you guys.” She stepped out of Sam’s arms and started down the hallway.

“Where are you going?” Dean called.

“Somewhere to smoke!”

She went outside, and went far enough into the parking garage that she wouldn’t get yelled at. She pulled out her pack and lighter, hands shaking. _Stupid fucking angel, outing me for being a stupid fucking virgin, shoulda just taken the headache with Tom, would have made this whole situation a lot easier to-_

“Chrys?”

She tensed at Sam’s hesitant voice behind her. “Go inside, Sam. I’m not talking to you about this. Just go inside.”

“Chrys, were you… Uh…”

She sighed and lit her cigarette, inhaling deeply before turning around. “What part of ‘not talking to you about this’ was difficult for you to grasp, Samuel?”

“Fuck,” he said quietly. “You were a virgin. Fuck, Chrys, why didn’t you tell me?”

She sighed and tilted her head back. “Do we have to do this, Sam? It’s not a big deal.”

He scoffed. “Not a big deal? Chrys, that was a _terrible_ first time.”

She looked at him and smirked. “I don’t know about that. I had fun.”

She took another drag as she watched him run a frustrated hand through his hair. “You know what I mean, Chrys. You first time should be… _Special._ Gentle. Different.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sam, it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me!” he shouted. “Chrys, if I had known, I would have done things differently. I mean, your first time should be with someone who-”

“Loves me?” She snapped, furious again. “Yeah, well, no one does, Sam. So you were the next best thing. Will you please leave me alone now?”

He stared at her, shock and sympathy written across his face. It pissed her off. “I was going to say someone who knows, maybe someone who cares about you.”

She rolled her eyes again, dropping the half-smoked cigarette onto the ground and smashing it with her shoe. “Well, no one does that, either, Sam. Honestly, it was fine. I had fun, I got off, we did it three times. Can we just move on, please?”

He looked uncomfortable, and Chrys was glad. _She_ was uncomfortable, so he should be, too. “Look,” she said softly, cursing her inability to leave it alone. “I was a virgin because I didn’t have a choice. Anytime I got past first base with someone, it hurt. Splitting migraines, nosebleeds, the whole nine yards. So yeah, I was a virgin. And now I’m not.” She stepped forward and placed a hand on his cheek. “And last night was good. It was _great,_ as far as I’m concerned. So please, no more sad puppy dog eyes, okay?”

He looked down at her, his arms slowly coming up to circle her waist. “If I had known, I would have-”

“But you didn’t,” she said softly. “And it was fine, Sam.”

***

Sam looked down at her lovely, pleading face, and was torn.

The night before _had_ been amazing. Her moving beneath him, her hot mouth on him, her hands pulling his hair when she came in his mouth. It had been incredible.

But it had been _rough,_ and _desperate._ He had need a release, he had needed something, and he had used her for it. He had used her and sex to make himself feel better. And now he felt worse than ever, because he had taken her first time away from her.

He followed as she led him back into the hospital. He was distracted from his misery by the sound of Bobby arguing with Cass.

“You're telling me you lost your mojo just in time to get me stuck in this trap the rest of my life?”

“I’m sorry.” Castiel at least had the decency to sound sincere.

“Shove it up your ass.”

Sam and Chrys got back in time to see Bobby turn back to look out the window and ignore the rest of them.

Dean turned to them. His eyes flicked to Chrys, but he didn’t say anything, for which Sam was grateful. “Well, at least he’s talking now,” he said instead.

“I heard that.” Bobby snapped.

Castiel turned back to the three of them. “I don’t have much time. We need to talk.”

“Okay.”

“Your plan to kill Lucifer,” he started, looking at Dean.

Sam could practically _feel_ Chrys roll her eyes. “It’s stupid. Never going to work,” she said evenly.

Dean whipped around. “Hey, Summers, thanks for the support.”

She ignored him to look at Castiel, who was giving her an appraising stare. “Do you have a different plan, Castiel?”

He nodded slowly. “I believe I have the solution. There is someone besides Michael strong enough to take on Lucifer. Strong enough to stop the apocalypse.”

Sam wrapped an arm around Chrys’s waist and pulled her to him, her back against his chest. She came willingly. “Who’s that?” he asked, hope blooming in his chest.

“The one who resurrected me and put you on that plane. The one who began everything. God. I’m going to find God.”

Sam’s eyebrows raised as Dean sputtered, “God?”

“Yes.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. _“God?”_

Castiel was becoming irritated. “Yes! He isn't in heaven. He has to be somewhere.”

“Try New Mexico,” Chrys said cheerfully. “I hear he's on a tortilla.”

Castiel frowned at her. “No, he's not on any flatbread. And I doubt the woman bound to Lucifer would be a valid source of information.”

Sam felt Chrys stiffen, and he frowned. “Hey,” he snapped, tightening the arm he had around her.

“Yeah, fuck you,” she snarled at the angel.

 _“Listen,_ Chuckles,” Dean said loudly, eyeing them both, “even if there is a God, he is either dead, and that's the generous theory-”

“He is out there, Dean.” Castiel interrupted.  
  
“-or he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us. I mean, look around you, man. The world is in the toilet. We are literally at the end of days here, and he's off somewhere drinking booze out of a coconut. All right?”  
  
“Enough,” Castiel said firmly. “This is not a theological issue. It's strategic. With God's help, we can win.”

Dean shook his head. “It's a pipe dream, Cass.”  
  
Castiel glared and advanced on Dean.”I killed two angels this week. My brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you, and you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world, and I lost everything, for nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself.”

Sam winced, pain and guilt lancing through his heart. Which was probably why he didn’t grab Chrys in time.

 _“Hey,”_ she snarled, stepping toward until she was poking the angel in the chest. _“You_ guys are the ones who messed up, fly boy. _Your_ brothers let this happen. Don’t go blaming Sam or Dean just because they happen to be the tools you bastards are using to start the apocalypse. So _you_ keep _your_ opinions to your fucking self.”

Castiel was glowering at her, and lights started to flicker in the room. Panic wormed it’s way into Sam at the sight of her so close to danger. “Chrys, it’s-”

“Shut up, Sammy,” she said, not unkindly. “Don’t say, ‘it’s okay,’ because it’s not. If he claims to be on our side, then he needs to admit that you guys didn’t start this, they did.”

Castiel straightened to his full height, every inch a soldier. “You owe me some respect, Chrysanthemum Summers.”

She didn’t move. “I don’t owe you a damn thing, Castiel, Angel of the Lord. Where the hell were you guys when Lucifer was ruining my entire damn life? Where were you when he was choosing me to carry devil spawn?”

The angel was still silent, fury rolling off of him in waves. The lights were flickering hard, giving off a strobe effect. Sam couldn’t help but be a little in awe of Chrys as she stood her ground when sparks started falling around her.

“You don’t scare me, Castiel,” she said softly. “Now, I assume you didn’t just come here to take pot shots at me and yell at us?”

He kept her gaze for another minute, then the angel turned to look at Dean. “I did come for something. An amulet.”

Bobby perked up a little bit. “An amulet? What kind?”

“Very rare. Very powerful. It burns hot in God's presence. It will help me find him.”  
  
Sam frowned, his mind whirring. “A God EMF?” He took Chrys’s hand without thought when she returned to his side

Castiel nodded, still looking at Chrys with distrust. 

Bobby shrugged. “Well, I don't know what you're talking about. I got nothing like that.”

Castiel’s eyes flicked to Bobby. “I know. You don't.” The angel turned to look at Dean, then dropped his gaze to the amulet around Dean’s neck.

Dean looked down. “What, this?”

Castiel nodded. “May I borrow it?”

Dean frowned. “No.”

“Dean. Give it to me.”

Chrys almost literally _growled_ , and Sam snaked an arm around her waist quickly, before she assaulted the angel. “Chrys, chill,” he muttered. Her struggles against his arm stilled immediately, and he felt the anger at the order he’d given radiating off of her.

“Fuck him, Dean, don’t do it,” she snapped.

Dean met her eyes, then Sam’s. There was sorrow there, and confusion. He slowly took the amulet off and handed it to Castiel. “Don’t lose it,” he snapped.

Castiel took it, and Dean looked uncomfortable. “Now I feel naked.” Chrys snorted.

Castiel ignored them both. “I’ll be in touch.” He disappeared.

***

Chrys laughed out loud when Ellen smacked Dean upside the head. “You can't pick up a phone? What are you, allergic to giving me peace of mind? I got to find out that you're alive from Rufus?” Ellen was glaring.

Dean rubbed his head where she had hit him. “Sorry, Ellen.”

“Yeah, you better be.” She pointed threateningly. “You better put me on speed dial, kid.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Yes, ma'am.”

Chrys grinned and looked at Sam. “I like her.”

He smiled down at her as they walked, and it made her heart flutter a little. “I figured you would.”

Dean glanced back at them, then looked back at Ellen. “What's going on, Ellen?”

She sighed. “More than I can handle alone.”

“How many demons are there?” Sam asked. Chrys unthinkingly slipped her hand into his as they walked. He took it, rubbing his thumb over hers.

Ellen glanced back at them. “Pretty much the whole town, minus the dead people and these guys.” She stopped at the closed door at the of the hall a looked back at them. “So, this is it, right? End times? It's got to be.”

Sam nodded, his hand squeezing Chrys’s a little tighter. “Seems like it.”

Ellen nodded then turned to knock on the door. “It’s me.”

The door opened to reveal several very nervous looking people, but one man drew Chrys’s attention immediately. He was older, wearing glasses, and looking skeptically at them. Looking at him made Chrys’s skin crawl, and her hand involuntarily tightened around Sam’s.

He looked down at her mouth “Chrys?” he whispered as Ellen made introductions. She met his eyes and shook her head, not trusting that the man wouldn’t hear her.

They needed to get the hell out of there.

***

“Dean doesn’t trust me,” Sam said as he filled a bag with salt.

They were in a Quick-Mart, getting salt for the guns. Sam collected the stuff while Chrys covered the door

Chrys rolled her eyes. “You lied to him, Sammy, of course he doesn’t trust you. I wouldn’t either.”

She could feel him giving her bitchface, but didn’t turn around. “You know, agreeing with me wouldn’t kill you, Chrys.” He sounded petulant.

“The very moment you’re right, I will agree with you whole-heartedly,” she said easily, watching the street. “Until then, no. You don’t get a pass just because you’re my soulmate.”

He scoffed behind her, and she sighed. _Jackass,_ she thought affectionately.

They were interrupted by two men entering the store. They glared at Chrys, who kept the gun trained on them. Their eyes were clear.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” She asked calmly.

“Demon whore,” one of them snarled,  advancing.

Chrys calmly fired a shot into the ground in front of him, forcing him to stop. “Rude,” she said mildly. “Now, I may miss the next time I fire a warning shot, guys, so go ahead and tell me what’s going on before I shoot you.” She felt warmth at her back as Sam came to stand behind her, one hand on her shoulder.

“They’re both demons,” the one who hadn’t made a move said warily.

“Chrys, they’re demons, why are you talking to them?” Sam asked.

She didn’t move, letting her mind mull over the situation they were in. “No, they’re not,” she said softly. “They’re just teenagers, Sam.”

“What?”

She reached one hand slowly into Sam’s pocket, pulling out the bottle with the rosary in it. She held it up for the teenagers to see, ignoring his whispered protests. “You boys know what this is?”

They nodded.

“Good.” She handed the bottle to Sam. “Take a swig of that, handsome, then pour some on me.”

“Chrys, this is-”

“Sam!” She snapped. “For God’s sake. If you want me to have faith in you, how about having a little bit of it in me?”

He was silent for a moment. Relief washed over here when she heard the plastic I'd being unscrewed, then the beads of the rosary clinking against the bottle. “See?”She said to the men. “Not a demon.” He leaned forward and poured a little bit onto her arm.”Me, either.”

Sam screwed the cap back on and tossed the bottle to them. “Now you.”

Once everyone had been properly proven not possessed, the two men relaxed and Chrys pointed the gun to to floor, but never released it.

“Your eyes are back to normal,” one of them said to her.

Sam nodded. “Yours, too.”

She looked between them. “So no one was possessed, but everyone saw black eyes?” The three of them nodded. “What the fuck is going on?”

***

They were back with Ellen’s people. Chrys was tense and scared, which she wasn’t used to. “So, I repeat, what the fuck is going on?”

Dean shook his head. “I have no idea.” He turned to Ellen. “Do you know why Rufus came to town? Was there a specific omen?”

Ellen shrugged. “He said something about water. That's all I know.”

Chrys turned to Roger, fighting the urge to sweat when she looked at him. “Padré, you know what she's talking about? The water?”

He looked back at her. “The river. Ran polluted all of a sudden.”  
  
“When?”  
  
Austin, the young soldier, answered. “Last Wednesday. And the demon thing started up the next day.”  
  
Chrys frowned. She felt Sam come up next to her, and she looked up as he slung his arm around her shoulders. She smiled and leaned into him gratefully, warmth blooming in her chest when he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Anything else? Anything?” Dean was asking.  
  
Austin shrugged. “Maybe, but it's pretty random.”  
  
Dean nodded encouragingly. “Good. Random's good.”  
  
“Shooting star. Does that count? Real big. Same night. Wednesday.”

“That definitely counts.” Dean stood and went to the bookshelf. He pulled a bible off and came back to stand with them. He flipped it open, rifled through some pages, then read aloud. “‘And there fell a great star from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell upon the river, and the name of the star was Wormwood. And many men died.’"

Pastor Roger. “Revelation eight ten. Are you saying that this is about the apocalypse?”  
  
Dean nodded. “You could say. And these specific omens, they're prelude to what?”  
  
Chrys paled. “The Four Horsemen.” She looked at Dean. “The Mustang out front. The red one. War. War rides the red horse.”

Roger frowned. “You can't think that a car-”

Chrys glared at him “It's the way I'd do it. I mean, think about it. It all makes sense. If War is a person and he's here, maybe he's messing with our heads.”  
  
She looked up at Sam, who nodded. “Turning us on each other.”  
  
Dean turned to them. “You said those kids thought you were demons. They think we're demons, we think they're demons. What if there are no demons at all and we're all just killing each other?”  
  
Roger shook his head. “Wait, just back up. It's the apocalypse?”  
  
Chrys shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “Sorry, Padré.”  
  
***

Sam watched Chrys go down her designated hallway with unease in his stomach. They had managed to get into the house with the other group in it. Some had been subdued, but others were still convinced that Ellen’s group were demons. Sam didn’t want Chrys to search any part of the house by herself, but she assured him she could handle it, and they had no other choice.

He shook his thoughts away internally and started up the stairs, adrenaline making his vision sharp. This was good, _action_ was good. Action was what would eventually get Dean to trust him again.

He opened a door, swinging his gun in, and realized it was a closet. He closed it firmly and started again down the hallway.

Chrys had figured it out before any of them what was going on, and Sam was willing to admit to himself that that was hot as fuck. And she had jumped right into the thick of it, holding a shotgun and fighting “demons,” without complaint. This was his life, and she seemed to fit into it perfectly.

He opened the next door and was immediately thrown across the room into the wall, watching as the door swung shut. Roger was standing behind it. Sam glared. “You.”

“Roger” spread his hands wide and grinned. “Me! You caught me. Popped in to watch. I can hustle like that.”

Sam tried to think quickly, but he was held against the wall. “So, the Roger everyone around here knows, the real Roger?”  
  
“Buried in a ditch.”

Sam winced. _Hurry up, Dean._ He had no doubt his brother could save him,  as long as Sam could stall a little. “So, you’re War,” he said tightly. “You’re doing this.”

War chuckled. “Please. Last week, this was Mayberry. Now these people are stabbing each other's children.”

“'Cause you made them see demons!” Sam shouted, frowning.

War was shaking his head. “Honestly, people don't need a reason to kill each other. I mean, you seen the Irish? They're all Irish.” Sam rolled his eyes. “You think I’m a monster,” War continued, “But I'm jello shots at a party. I just remove inhibitions.”

“I'm gonna kill you myself.” Sam snapped.  
  
War laughed out loud. “Oh, that's adorable, considering you're my poster boy.”  
  
Confusion hindered Sam’s anger. “What's that supposed to mean?”  
  
“You can't stop thinking about it, ever since you magically got clean. You _wanted_ to kill those boys in the store, but your slut didn’t let you.”

Sam glared and pulled against whatever power easy holding him down. “You’re wrong.”

“Save your protests for your brother and the whore. I can see inside your head. And man, it is one-track city in there. Blood, blood, blood. Lust for power. Same as always. You want to be strong again. But not just strong. Stronger than everybody. Good intentions, quick slide to hell, buddy boy. You feel bad now? Wait till you're thigh deep in warm corpses. Because, my friend, I'm just getting started.”

“You’re really not.” Chrys spoke from behind Sam, and a shotgun blast rang out. War flew back and fell limply against the wall.

Ears ringing, he looked around to see her standing just behind him, her eyes not leaving War. “You all right there, handsome?”

“I’m fine, Chrys.” He tried ” move, but was still held fast.

She nodded. “Good.” She stepped around him and approached War.

He sneered at her. “Lucifer’s woman, I don’t believe I-”

She hit him across the face with the barrel of her gun before he could finish. “I have a name, you know,” she said mildly. “It would be super fun if y’all started using it.”

Dean came in. “Chrys?”

She didn’t turn. “Dean, his ring. Come cut his finger off.”

War’s eyes widened as the oldest Winchester approached him. “What? No!”

Dean ignored him and pulled the knife out of his belt. War looked at Chrys desperately. “I can help you break your bond to Lucifer!”

Everything in Sam stilled, and he stared at War, then turned to Chrys. Dean had also turned to her, waiting for her command.

Her face had gotten hard, her blue eyes like steel. “You lying motherfucker,” she whispered. Then, “Cut it off, Dean.”

Dean turned and sliced all four fingers on the man’s hand off. The ring clinked to the floor, and the rest of his body disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The response to this story is completely overwhelming. I'm so humbled. Thank you so much.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	7. Let's Really Commit

“So, pit stop at Mount Doom?”

Dean was holding the ring from War, and Chrys just looked at him. She was too tired to banter with either of them, so she just lay her head on Sam’s shoulder.

Sam was silent for a moment. “Dean-”   
  
“Sam, let's not.”   
  
Sam shook his head. “No, listen. This is important. I know you don't trust me.” Dean looked away, and Chrys put her hand on Sam’s thigh in a show of comfort. “Just, now I realize something. I don't trust me either.”   
  
Chrys sat up and looked at him, seeing Dean do the same out of the corner of her eye.   
  
Sam avoided both of their gazes. “From the minute I saw those kids, only thought in my head… And I tell myself it's for the right reasons, my intentions are good, and it, it feels true, you know? But I think, underneath… I just miss the feeling. I know how messed up that sounds, which means I know how messed up I am. Thing is, the problem's not the demon blood, not really. I mean, I, what I did, I can't blame the blood or Ruby or… Anything. The problem's me. How far I'll go. There's something in me that.. Scares the hell out of me, Dean. In the last couple of days, I caught another glimpse.”

Chrys’s head whipped to look at Dean when he spoke. “So what are you saying?”

“I'm in no shape to be hunting. I need to step back, 'cause I'm dangerous. Maybe it's best we just… Go our separate ways.”   
  
Dean nodded after a moment. “Well, I think you're right.”   
  
Sam looked hurt. “I was expecting a fight.”   
  
It was Dean’s turn to avoid his brother’s eyes. “The truth is I spend more time worrying about you than about doing the job right. And I just, I can't afford that, you know? Not now.”   
  
Sam nodded. “I'm sorry, Dean.”   
  
“I know you are, Sam.”

Sam stood up, but Chrys stayed where she was. She nodded firmly. “Ah, good. Yes, let’s pretend this is a good idea. Let’s really  _ commit.” _ She tilted her head back and groaned. “Fucking idiots.”

“Hey-”

“How did they let Lucifer rise?” She asked, glaring at them both. “How did they start the apocalypse? By keeping you two apart. So you, the  _ fucking Winchesters, _ are going to give them exactly what they want?”

Sam frowned and examined her. “We’ll get back together, Chrys. This isn’t permanent.”

She turned to look at Dean. To his credit, he met her eyes before looking away. “Is it, Dean?” She asked softly. “Do you plan on calling Sam back?”

When he didn’t say anything, she turned back to Sam. “You have to see how stupid this is. You guys are stronger together. You’re weak when you’re apart, Sammy.”

“Chrys, come on, please don’t. Let’s just go.”

Infuriated, she crossed her arms. “Well, I’m not leaving Dean.”

A dangerous look crossed Sam’s face. “Chrys, come on, I’m walking away.”

_ Why is he so angry? _ It didn’t make sense to her, she defied him regularly. Ignoring the shiver of trepidation working its way through her, she continued.

“Not if you don’t want me in the hospital you’re not,” she snapped. “This is stupid, Sam, and if it takes me planting my ass on this bench and-”

“Chrys, shut up and come here.”

She was too shocked to fight back as her body did as it was told. She stood in front of him and looked back at Dean, who looked a little horrified.

“Look at me, Chrys,” Sam snapped. She turned and glared at him. “We’re not arguing about this. This isn’t about you. It’s about Dean and I. Understood?”

_ Ouch. _ Just when she had started to feel like part of the team, like she was helping instead of hurting. He couldn’t know how much that had hurt her. And she wasn’t going to clue him in.

“Fine,” she said quietly, looking down to blink away the tears in her eyes.

“Good. Let’s go.”

***

Sam walked down the road next to Chrys, watching her out of the corner of his eye. “Do you, uh, do you want me to carry your bag?”

“Bite me, Winchester.”   


_ That went about as well as was expected. _   
  
He didn’t know what the hell had come over him when he’d ordered her to come with him. Just… Just, the thought of her leaving him, of her choosing Dean over him, had made him completely furious. For no reason. She  _ hadn’t _ been choosing Dean, she had been arguing her point, he knew that.   
  
So why did the thought still make him see red?   
  
He tried to internally shake those thoughts away. He looked at her again. “So, how did you know those kids weren’t demons?”   
  
She rolled her eyes, and he couldn’t help but admire her long, shiny hair draped over her shoulder. “I don’t know, Samuel, I just could. Their eyes weren’t black when I looked at them.”   
  
He frowned, irritated. “It’s Sam.”   
  
“Fuck you.”   
  
_ Smooth, Sam, really smooth. _ He let the silence reign for a while longer, just the sounds of their footsteps breaking it.   
  
The sound of her lighter caught his attention, and he turned to see her taking a drag and shoving the lighter back into her bag. He frowned. “You really shouldn’t smoke, you know.”   
  
The anger in her eyes took him aback. “Fuck you, Sam. Don’t want me to do it? Order me to quit,” she snapped.   
  
_ If looks could kill, I would be a dead man. _ He sighed. “Chrys, I’m sorry about earlier.”   
  
“Eat me.”   
  
“Lovely,” he snapped, irritated. “I’m trying to apologize.”   
  
Her eyebrows went up. “Yeah? Well, just out of curiosity, how many times you gonna force me to do something, and then apologize for it? I just want to start keeping a tally.”   
  
He struggled with his temper, which Chrys seemed to bring out like no one he’d ever met. “Chrys,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m trying to apologize.”   
  
She stopped walking and stared at him incredulously. “Seriously, Sam? You seriously think that apologizing to me is going to make the fact that you keep raping my mind any better?”   
  
The mention of rape had his blood running cold. “Chrys, you know I would never-“   
  
“Do I?” she asked evenly. “Because you seem to be perfectly okay with using it in any other situation.”   
  
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Chrys, look, I’m really sorry, I don’t know what else to say.”   
  
“There’s nothing else to say, Sam.” Her voice was shaking. He looked up and was shocked at the tears standing in her blue eyes. “Look, Sam, I hate this situation,” she said softly. “I hate that I have to follow you around. I hate that I seem to have some sort of built-in Stepford wife switch in my head.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “I hate that I can’t go be with someone else, I hate that I can’t be away from you. And I know you must hate it, too. And that you must hate me.”   
  
She looked up again, and the pain in her face staggered him. “But you have got to cut me some slack, Sam, I’m begging you. Three weeks ago I was a bartender, and I am trying to adjust, truly, I am, but you’ve got to give me a minute.”   
  
She wiped her eyes. “So no, I’m not going to just forgive you for pulling that bullshit. The only thing I can control right now is how mad I am at you, so fuck you, I’ll be as mad as I want.”   
  
He stepped toward her, and was relieved that she didn’t step back. “Chrys, I don’t hate you.”   
  
She gave a derisive snort. “Yeah, okay, sure.” She started to step around him. “Let’s just go.”   
  
He grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him, cupping her face with his hand. “Chrys, I don’t hate you.”   
  
She examined him closely. “Who you trying to convince, Sammy?”   
  
He looked at her for a long time. “I don’t know.”   
  
He leaned down and kissed her hard. Relief swept through him when she dropped her bag and slipped her arms around his neck, kissing him back with enthusiasm. He dropped his own bag to put his hands on her slim hips, lifting her, and grinning when she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Good girl,” he murmured into her mouth, and he relished the shiver it sent through her. Her long, billowing skirt covered both of them quite neatly, and he felt her hook her ankles at the small of his back.   
  
He ran his tongue along her bottom lip and moaned when she opened immediately. He swept his tongue into her mouth and started walking, desperately looking for a suitable place out of the corner of his eye. She was grinding down onto him, whimpering softly, and she was driving him  _ crazy. _

He finally found a relatively flat spot. He knelt, then leaned forward over her. She didn’t let go, just kept kissing her way down his neck, making his thoughts fuzzy. He leaned down and kissed her hard. “Stay here?” he asked, meeting her eyes to let her know it wasn't an order. He took a moment to tenderly wipe the last remnants of tears from her face.

She nodded, and he leaned back to pull his jacket off and spread it on the flat area next to her. She watched him with a soft smile. “Always a gentleman,” she teased softly.

He leaned over her again, slowly taking her hips into his hands again. “There is nothing gentlemanly about the things I want to do to you, Chrys,” He growled, picking her up and moving her to lay on his jacket.

His words had the desired effect, and he watched her eyes darken with lust.  

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her collarbone, slowly making his way down. He sucked her nipple into his mouth through the fabric of her shirt, grinning when she arched her back. “Sam!”

He grinned against her chest and moved to pay the same attention to her other breast, reveling in the way she moved beneath him.

He kissed his way down her flat stomach until he was just under her waist, looking up to meet her eyes when she propped herself on her elbows to look at him. He winked, then sat back to gather her skirts in his hands, and promptly pulled them over himself as he adjusted to lay himself in front of her.

“Oh,  _ God,” _ she groaned, already lifting her long, graceful legs to rest on his shoulders

“Good girl,” he praised softly, kissing her inner thigh. He ran his tongue lightly up her outer folds, chuckling when her hips bucked.

_ “Fuck!” _ She cried out, and he smiled against her.

He buried his face into her, running his tongue across her clit in long, slow strokes. He finally had to move his hands to hold her hips, because they were bucking with abandon now, accompanying her soft cries into the sky.

When he sensed that she was getting close, he cautiously moved one hand and sunk a finger into her fast, then another finger joined the first. When she was there, he curled his fingers and sucked on her clit hard, soaking in the screams coming from her.

He lapped at her gently, avoiding her now oversensitive clit as she came down. Once she was calm again, he sat back up, freeing himself from her skirt with no help from Chrys, who was laying in blissful afterglow.

He grinned and came to lay next to her, propping himself up on his elbow, and laying his other hand on her stomach. 

She cracked an eye and looked at him. “Listen, your skill with your mouth will not get you out of the trouble it gets you into, Sammy.”

He nuzzled her neck and jaw, murmuring his assent. The way she smelled, like clean, healthy woman, was driving him crazy.

He felt hands on his chest and grunted a little when she pushed him onto his back and straddled him, arranging her skirt over them. “I’m serious, Sam,” her low voice sending heat down through his core and straight to his cock. “You’re not getting out of it that easy.”

She ground herself down, and Sam tilted his head back when he felt her heat through the denim.  _ “Chrys.” _

She smirked and leaned down to nibble on his jaw, moving her way up to his ear as she kept pressing her center against his aching cock. “I’m going to have you calling my name, Sammy.”

Sam had no doubts that she was correct when she sat up, dragging her nails down his chest. “Tell me you want me, Sam,” she said huskily.

_ Make her work for it _ . He stayed silent, just tilting his head back.

Her low laugh nearly killed him. “All right, handsome, we can play it that way.” She sat up, and he almost moaned at the loss of contact. “You wanted me the moment you saw me. I saw you start preening.”

He chuckled, trying to press his hips up to hers. “Maybe I preen for every beautiful woman who punches me in the face.”

“Not like you did for me,” she said confidently. “You’ve never felt anything like you did when you saw me, Sammy,” she purred.

She was right. He’d never been hit this hard, he’d never wanted someone as bad as he did Chrys. And she  _ still wasn’t touching him. _

He grabbed her hips and bucked, turning her so she was on her back. He brushed a tendril of black hair away from her face and met that crazily blue gaze. “I want you, Chrys.”

She smirked. “Then take me.”

Her hands on his belt almost made him come in his fucking pants. He closed his eyes and tried to think of anything else as she undid his belt and pulled his cock out of his boxers.

“Hey,” she said softly, and he felt a soft hand on his face. “You with me?”

He opened his eyes and almost lost himself in her eyes. “Yeah, beautiful,” he said huskily. “Yeah, I’m with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, be  _ in _ me, Sam.”

No further prompting was needed. He lined himself up with her hot, slick entrance and buried himself in her in one fast, hard thrust. She cried out, and the sound fed his possessive soul.

His pace was hard and fast, and he leaned down and bit her shoulder, sucking hard and growling softly.

_ “Sam!” _

He reached a hand down and fought through her bunched up skirt to touch her. He grinned when she clenched around him. He rubbed circles around her clit, not touching her where she needed him.

“God dammit, Sam-”

“Do you want to come, Chrys?”

“Yes!”

He smirked. “Then you’re gonna have to beg me for it.”

He barely had time to register the dangerous look in her eyes before she was bucking underneath him, flipping them over so she was on top. She sank down on him hard, and they both moaned when he bottomed out.

She tilted her head forward and rested her hands on his chest, her hair making a curtain around her. “No.”

When she moved, all of the banter left Sam. Her rhythm was slow and sensual, and drove all coherent thought from his head. He moaned, rolling his head back and gripping her hips hard.

It wasn’t long before she started convulsing over him. Even through her orgasm, she leaned down to him, meeting his eyes. “Say my name, Sammy,  _ say it.” _

She came down hard onto him and twisted her hips. Euphoria exploded through him, and before he could stop it, he was shouting.

“Fuck,  _ Chrys!” _

Her amused, satisfied chuckle played in the background of his wet dreams for years.

***

The next part part of the walk was much more relaxed, and Sam was glad. He didn’t like Chrys being mad at him.

They walked side by side and hand in hand. He squeezed hers gently. “Hey, what War said. About breaking the bond with Lucifer. Do you really think he was lying?”

She nodded. “I looked  _ everywhere, _ Sam. I looked for  _ years. _ The only way to break the bond is if I die, and even that is only a guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	8. I Took Care of Business

Chrys watched Sam wipe down tables, both admiring the width of his shoulders and worrying. She still thought the civilian life was a pipe dream, but the last few days had been almost peaceful. Work at the bar, check Sam out when he did heavy lifting, stare down other women checking him out, tend bar, go home, fuck Sam, sleep, repeat. 

It was as peaceful as Chrys had ever had, anyway. But she knew, deep down in her heart, that it wasn’t going to last. They were the prom king and queen of hell, normal wasn’t for them.

The little blonde waitress had sidled up to Sam, talking him up. He met Chrys’s eyes, and the amusement on his face made her heart speed up. He winked at her and turned back to Lindsey, and Chrys’s knees went a little weak. With one stupid look, he could make her feel like they were in their own little bubble, one that the rest of the world would never be able to touch.

Smiling, she came around the bar to stand next to him, easily slipping an arm around his waist as Lindsey spoke.

“Here's what we play for. When I win, you buy me dinner and tell me your life story.”

Sam grinned. “Sounds fair.” He looked down at Chrys. “What do you think?”

“I think she’s gonna kick your ass, Keith.”

He pulled her tighter against him and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before moving over to the darts board with Lindsey. Chrys blushed a little and followed.

Maybe it was because of the soulmate thing, but with Sam, especially the last few days, she felt more valued than she had in her entire life. His easy affection and quick smile soothed her rather ragged heart, and she soaked it up eagerly. Even if she knew it was temporary, and that they were deliberately avoiding talking about things that really needed to be discussed, she would enjoy it while she had it.

When Sam won darts in the first thirty seconds of the game, she laughed out loud.

***

“Come for me, beautiful,” Sam growled, leaning over her to whisper in her ear as he drove into her from behind.

She buried her face into the pillow in front of her, whimpering as the pressure inside her built to a peak. A huge, but very gentle, hand ran up her side to wrap around her throat, and he coaxed her up until her back was flush with his sweaty chest. “Don’t you dare hold back any of those pretty little noises, Chrys,” He whispered into her ear. “I want to hear you screaming for me.”

Everything inside her blew apart, and she tilted her head back onto his shoulder and screamed for him as she came.

_ “Sam!” _

***

She was curled next to him, deeply asleep, when he started twitching.

Chrys looked up blearily, trying to blink the sleep out of her eyes. Sam was twitching in his sleep, a soft, distressed moan in the back of his throat. She sat up, rubbing her face quickly and turning to him. He had broken out in a light sweat. “Sam?” She whispered.

“...ss…”

She blinked.  _ Is he saying my name in his sleep? _

A small smile was playing on her lips when he spoke again.

“... Jess…”

Chrys winced and her stomach dropped.  _ Oh.  _ She closed her eyes against the pain in her chest, then opened them again.  _ Well, I’m not lying here with him while he dreams about someone else. _

She got out of bed, not bothering to be gentle. She grabbed one of his flannel shirts and a pair of shorts, pulling them on haphazardly. She dug in her bag for her pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and one of the room keys, then she stepped out into the cool air.

She sat cross-legged, her back against the wall, and lit up. With a sigh, she exhaled and leaned her head against the wall behind her, fighting the tears.

_ He doesn’t love you. Hell, he barely  _ likes _ you. You’re just an easy lay. _

That hurt. A lot. She closed her eyes against the tears. She’d really thought they were getting somewhere, and now…

She was so in love with Sam. Everything he did, every smile and touch and look and laugh, they all delighted some part of her battered soul. She loved his arms around her, his voice rumbling in her ear, the way his gaze burned to let her know he was checking out her ass when she bent over.

She had never felt anything so strong, so steady.

And here she was, crying outside, wrapped in his shirt, smoking a cigarette, like some damn angsty teenager.

_ Get it together, Chrysanthemum, _ she thought to herself harshly, taking another deep drag.

Because at the end of the day. It didn’t matter. She would, quite literally, follow him into hell, whether he loved her or not. She was determined to get used to it, get used to her devotion to him being one-sided, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt like this forever.

“Fat chance,” she muttered, taking another inhale.

She was interrupted by the door opening. Sam stuck his head out and looked around, and she couldn’t help but smile at his tousled hair, no matter how upset she was. “Over here, Sammy,” she said softly.

He turned and blinked at her. “What the hell are you doing out here, Chrys?”

She waved the cigarette in her hand, and he made a face. “Shut up, Sam,” she said softly, turning back to take another drag.

To her surprise, he said nothing, just shut the door behind him and came to sit next to her. He put his big hand on her knee. She shifted, and he moved it to wrap his arm around her shoulders. “Everything all right?” he asked around a yawn.

She smiled up at him again. “Yeah, it’s just been a long week, Sam.”

He looked down at her,  _ really _ looked at her. “Are you  _ crying?” _

She watched him carefully as he brought a hand up to wipe her tears away. “Good dreams, Sam?” She asked softly, knowing it would shut him up.

It did, and he sighed. “Are we gonna do this forever?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” she snapped. Despite her tone, she cuddled closer into his warmth.

Another heavy sigh.  _ Drama queen.  _ “It’s cold out here, Chrys,” He said softly. “Let’s go inside.”

***

They were at work the next night after a tense afternoon. Chrys didn’t even look up when the door chimed. The three men who had come in were speaking, but it wasn’t to her, so she didn’t particularly care.

Until she heard Lindsey say, “Sam? What happened to Keith?”

Chrys looked up and met Sam’s eyes, panic flooding them. “Wait, what?”

Lindsey pointed at the men who had come in. Sam stiffened, and Chrys assumed he recognized them.

“He called you Sam,” Lindsey was saying.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, uh, Sam’s my middle name.”

_ What? _ Chrys suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.  _ How has this man made it this long? _

Lindsey was laughing. “Keith Sam? Man, I'm sorry.”

Chrys came around the bar and smiled. “Actually, it's Samuel, so it's not quite as horrible as it sounds.”   


Lindsey nodded, then looked at the four men. “Are you guys friends?”   
  
The man in front smiled, and Chrys immediately disliked him. “Hunting buddies,” he was saying, “with his dad. Samuel here is quite the hunter himself.”   
  
Lindsey’s eyebrows went up as she looked at Sam. “Wow. You killed deer and things?”   
  
The man snorted. “Yeah, and things.”   
  
“Keith,” Chrys said firmly, “why don’t you grab the guys a table, and I’ll get everyone drinks.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Chrys went and poured three beers, keeping an eye on the table. Sam looked a little guilty. Which meant that either he had done something truly horrible, which he should feel  _ very _ guilty about, or he had done nothing at all.

_ Idiot. _

***

Chrys slipped out the back door, claiming she needed a cigarette. Sam frowned at her,but she abandoned him with the  _ very _ friendly Lindsey without hesitation. Normally, it would have made Chrys growl to see someone so into Sam, but she had bigger fish to fry tonight.

Chrys had a feeling about Tim and his buddies.

She finished fiddling with her pistol and sat down at the entrance to the parking lot, waiting.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, the truck came to swing into the parking lot. Tim slammed on the brakes when he saw her sitting in the middle of the road.

Chrys calmly got to her feet and walked toward the truck, keeping her gun down at her side. “Help you boys?”

“Get out of my way, bitch.”

She chuckled. “Well, that’s not very nice. No, I don’t think I will.”

Tim snarled. “You wanna get run over?”

She waved the gun cheerfully. “You wanna get shot?”

He squinted at her, and leaned out his driver’s side door. “You’re the bartender.”

She nodded. “That I am.”

He frowned. “Why do you care?”

She didn’t answer, just started walking around to the driver’s side of the truck, keeping the gun trained on Tim. Once she got there, she looked at him. “Go home, guys. Get out of here, and never look back.”

Tim scoffed. “Not a chance.”

She sighed. “What, exactly, did Sam do?”

He looked at her for a long time. “Steve’s dead.”

Chrys shrugged coldly. “Bummer. What does Sam have to do with it?”

“We were hunting the demon Sam told us about. And it killed Steve.”

She rolled her eyes. “I reiterate: Bummer.”

“You see, this demon, he, uh, he told us things. Crazy things, things about Sam.”

She smiled. “Ah, there it is. So, what’s the plan? Are we gonna kill him? Or, oh! We’re gonna get him to use the ‘powers’ the big, scary demon told us about. Huh?”

The blank looks on their faces were answer enough.

She leaned into the driver’s side window, casually putting the gun under Tim’s chin. “Look, gentlemen,” she said softly. “I’m sorry about Steve. That sucks. But this? This is a shitty idea.”

“See, even if demons didn’t lie, which they do, and even if that was possible, which it isn’t, why the fuck would you go after someone who’s strong enough to exorcise a demon without an exorcism?”

“And even if you did do that, let me assure you about what would happen.” She met their eyes in turn, then went back to Tim’s. “Sam would kill you. And if he didn’t, I would kill you, and I would make you wish Sam had killed you, because he’s nicer than I am.”

“So, gentlemen, and I use the term loosely, you have two options. One, go ahead and try to go on in there, guns blazing. You’ll be dead before you get to the front door. Or two, drive away, don’t come back, and pray I never run into you again.”

Tim had a mutinous glare in his eye. “Listen, you little cunt-”

Chrys slammed her hand over his mouth and casually pointed the gun down to shoot his knee. The silencer she’d put on the gun deadened the shot, and her hand muffled his screams.

“Holy shit!” the other man said.

She pointed the gun at him. “Shut up.” She looked back at Tim. “Tim, buddy, look at me.” He was still staring at his knee. Rolling her eyes, she leaned forward and hit him on the knee with the barrel of the pistol, setting him off screaming again. “Tim,” she snapped. He finally looked at her. “There we go,” she said softly. “You’re going to drive away now, all right? And you’re gonna be gone for a  _ long _ time, okay?”

He nodded frantically. “Now I’m going to take my hand away. If you shout, my next shot won’t be in your knee. Understood?” Another nod.

Keeping the gun pointed at them, she patted the driver’s side door. “Got a long drive ahead of you, boys, you should probably head out.

The truck squealed in reverse, and then squealed away.

***

“Long cigarette break earlier,” Sam said slowly, walking back to the motel with Chrys. Her slim hand was clasped in his.

He tightened his grip when she tried to pull away. “What happened?”

She shook her head. “I took care of business, Sam.”

He frowned. “What?”

She looked at him for a long moment. “Tim and Reggie. They came back to the bar. Steve died.”

Sam was shocked. “Jesus, that’s awful.”

She shrugged. “It’s the life. But they blamed you. The demon they were fighting told them about your, ah, extracurriculars in the exorcism department to save it’s own ass.”

He sighed. “Okay, so they know, that sucks.”

She shook her head and tugged him to a stop. “Sam, they wanted to kidnap you. They were going to force you to drink demon blood and exorcise that demon.”

“Jesus,” he ran a hand through his hair, his mind whirring. Then he stopped and looked at her. “What did you do?”

She shrugged. “Shot him in the knee, told him to get lost, and to not come back.”

“Chrys! That’s… That’s crazy!”

She started walking again, pulling him along with her. “No, Sam, that’s practical. A little sentimental, actually, I should have shot them in their stupid heads. You’re messing with my thought processes, Winchester.”

He stopped again, pulling her to a stop again. “Chrys…”

She held her hand up to interrupt him. “Sam, I’m just saying we’re in the big leagues now. Demons and God and Lucifer… We don’t have time for people with vengeance issues.” She signed and stepped forward to wrap her arms around his waist. His slowly came up around hers, and then he crushed her to him.

“I just have a feeling that that’s gonna come back to bite us in the ass, Sammy.”

They started forward again, and he noticed her shiver. He pulled her closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He grinned down at her. “So… You shot someone for me?”

She elbowed him in the ribs, chuckling. “No, I shot someone for  _ me. _ The last time you died, I went into a coma.”

Sam laughed, pulling her close to drop a kiss on top of her head. It was strange, but being with Chrys made him feel like maybe he wasn’t just some fuckup who had started the apocalypse. “I dunno, I think I’m growing on you, beautiful.”

Her arm snaked around his waist and she looked down. “Maybe,” she said softly enough that he almost didn’t hear it.

He decided to let her have it, just pressed another kiss to her head. It had been a while since Sam had felt so light-hearted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	9. I Give Her Fifty-Fifty

“You're not fooling me, you know that? With this sympathy-for-the-devil crap. I know what you are.”

Dean was standing in two-thousand-fourteen, and had just watched Lucifer, wearing Sam, kill the future version of himself. And he had watched Chrys watch.

She was probably the worst part of this little… Vision. Chrys was spirited and tough, she had a sharp mouth and a sharper wit. She would never let Sam get away with treating her like Lucifer was treating her.

The woman in front of him was  _ broken. _ Bruises ringed around her neck, she had a black eye, and one of her arms was in a sling. She stood quietly, just to the left and right behind Lucifer, like a dog. Her eyes were glued to the floor. This wasn’t the woman who had gut-punched him and told Sam to go fuck himself, she would call him whatever she wanted. 

This woman was broken.

“What am I?” Lucifer asked, casting an amused glance back to Chrys. He lifted a hand and brushed a knuckle across her cheek, chuckling when she flinched away from him.

Dean saw red. “You're the same thing, only bigger. The same brand of cockroach I've been squashing my whole life. An ugly, evil, belly-to-the-ground, supernatural motherfucker. The only difference between them and you is the size of your ego, and you’re a rapist.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows raised. “Oh, is that what you think? No, Dean, Chrys asked for every little mark she has.” He smiled. “I like you, Dean. I get what the other angels see in you. Goodbye. We'll meet again soon.”

“You’d better kill me now,” Dean growled. “Or I swear, I will find a way to kill you. And I won’t stop.”   


Another cold smile. “I know you won't. I know you won't say yes to Michael, either. And I know you won't kill Sam. Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up here. Sam will always say yes, you will always lose him, and Chrysanthemum will always be mine. I win.”

“You’re wrong.” Dean tried to get Chrys to look at him. “He’s wrong, Chrys, we won’t let this happen to you. Sam will save you."

Lucifer laughed. “See you in five years, Dean.” He turned, then stopped, and turned back around. “Oh, and Dean. Tell Sam to tell them he’s her husband when she’s in the hospital. They’ll let him in.”

***

Chrys was in the passenger seat of the stolen sedan Sam had picked up to take them back to Dean. She was glad they had finally pulled their heads out of their asses about being together, and was eager to find out what had changed Dean’s mind.

“All right over there?” Sam asked, meeting her eyes.

She smiled. “Just glad we’re back on the road. I don’t think I’m meant for the domestic life.”

His lips tilted upward. “Chrys, it was hardly domestic. You shot someone.”

She rolled her eyes. “In the knee. He’ll be fine.”

He laughed, and his hand came to rest on her thigh. Warmth spiralled up through her from the contact. “Chrys,” he said softly, “I, uh… I’m glad you’re around.”

_ Am I blushing? Am I actually blushing? _ “Don’t get mushy on me, Sammy,” she said with a smile.

He was quiet for a second, and she worried that she had upset him. “I dunno,” he said mildly, squeezing her thigh gently. “I think you like it when I get mushy.”   


She looked at him, eyebrows raised. He didn’t look at her, but he was smiling that devastating, sexy smile, and she felt all her insides turn squishy.  _ Dammit. _

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Winchester,” she said, but when he flipped his hand over, she threaded her fingers through his. 

***

Sam’s stomach was in knots when they pulled onto the side road that Dean was waiting on. The sight of the Impala, and his brother leaning against her, didn’t help.

Chrys’s hand gently squeezing his did, though. “Hey,” she said softly. He looked over into her blue eyes. “It’s gonna be all right. Let’s go.”

He nodded. When he let go of her hand to open the door, he felt cold.

They came around the front and stood in front of Dean.

“Sam,” Dean said evenly, pulling out the demon-killing knife. He handed it to Sam, handle first. “If you’re serious, and you want back in, you should hang on to this. I’m sure you’re rusty.” He looked over at Chrys. “Chrysanthemum.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You want to get punched, Dean?”

He grinned and stepped forward, pulling her into a tight hug. Sam’s eyebrows raised, and he saw Chrys hesitate, but she slowly wrapped her arms around Dean’s neck and hugged him back.

Dean stepped back and cleared his throat, then turned to Sam. “Look, man. I’m sorry. I don’t know, I’m… Whatever I need to be. But I was, uh, wrong.”

The words were like a balm to Sam’s soul. “What made you change your mind?”

Dean shrugged. “Long story. The point is… Maybe we are each other’s Achilles heel. Maybe they’ll find a way to use us against each other, I don’t know. I just know we’re all we’ve got. More than that. We keep each other human.”

Sam swallowed hard against the emotions rising in him. “Thank you. Really, thank you. I won’t let you down.”

“Oh, I know it,” Dean scoffed, “I mean, you are the second-best hunter on the planet.”

***

They finally stopped around eleven, pulling over and checking into a shitty motel. They attempted to settle in, but Chrys was too tense to sleep, and she knew they were, too. Dean finally announced he was going out, to which the other two gratefully agreed.

_ Too keyed up to sleep, _ Chrys thought as they entered the smoky bar. Music thudded through her ears, and she grinned, her hips already starting to sway. Music had always spoken to Chrys, and this music, with its heavy bass and it’s steady beat, was talking dirty to her.

Big hands landed on her waist, and Sammy’s voice was at her ear, also talking dirty to her. She moaned and tilted her head back, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck to hold him in place as he swayed with her in his hands.

Chrys didn’t know how long they danced, but she knew by the end of it, she was quite literally panting with arousal, and his dark eyes and knowing smirk said he was right there with her.

He finally,  _ finally, _ dragged her off of the dance floor by her hand. She waved at Dean, who was talking up a blonde at the bar. He shot her a wink as they left, and turned back to his blonde.

The cold air hit Chrys like a ton of bricks when they got outside, and brought her down just a little. She huddled close to Sam for his warmth. He looked down at her and grinned. “Do you even own a coat?” he asked, shrugging out of his and draping it over her shoulders as they walked.

She wrapped it around her tightly, but still stayed close to him. “Nope, I lived on the coasts. Sand, the sea, warm air, we didn’t really need coats.”

He grinned and pulled her close, cupping her face with his hand to kiss her gently. She whimpered and pressed herself against him. “Beaches, hm?” he asked huskily. “So, does that mean you were running around in a bikini, and I missed it?”

She smirked up into his heated brown eyes. “Oh, Sammy, I was running around in  _ nothing.” _

The possessive growl in the back of his throat made her weak at the knees, so she came up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck. He nipped at the spot where her neck met her shoulder, and she whispered, “Maybe we should take a vacation.”

The second possessive growl sent shivers through her as he came up and caught her mouth with his, kissing her hard. His hand came to the back of her head, threading through her long hair, and she gave control over to him.

“Chrys!” A familiar voice rang out, cutting through her lust-filled haze like a knife.

Chrys turned around slowly to see a slip of a girl with bright orange hair standing in front of them. “Hannah?”

A wave of memories hit Chrys. She and Tom, holding hands shyly, and his little sister Hannah poking loving fun at them. Chrys and Hannah going for a ‘girls day’ when Tom was having a rough withdrawal. Chrys and Tom, curling up and sleeping on the couch together, waking up with Hannah cuddled between them. 

_ Hannah. _

“Surprised, Chrys?” The gun in Hannah’s hand was wavering a little.

Chrys held her hands up and immediately moved to stand in front of Sam, who was shocked and also holding his hands up. “Hannah, what are you doing here?” Chrys asked softly. “What happened?” Her mind was working overtime, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

“What happened?” Hannah shrieked. “Tom! You killed Tommy!”

Pain sliced through Chrys, and she winced. “Hannah, I-”   


“He was getting better!” Hannah cried, the gun getting steadier and steadier in her hands. “He was finally going to NA! He was in  _ recovery, _ you bitch!”

Chrys nodded, her hands held wide. “He was, and then he wasn’t, Hannah. That’s how recovery works, you know that.”

_ “No!” _ Hannah screamed. “No, he was fine until  _ you left him! _ I looked for you for a long time, Chrys, so I could see your face when you realize you fucking killed Tom.”

Chrys winced again. “Hannah-”

_ “He killed himself because of you!” _ Hannah screamed.

The gun went off.

Then Hannah pointed the gun at herself. 

_ “No!” _ Chrys lunged forward and batted the gun out of the younger woman’s hands. She grabbed Hannah’s shoulders. “That is  _ never _ an option, Hannah!  _ Never! _ What the hell would Tom say?” She shook the younger girl. “God  _ dammit, _ Hannah, what the  _ fuck _ are you thinking?”

_ “Chrys!” _

Sam’s shout seemed to awaken the pain. Agony exploded through Chrys. She looked down at her stomach, where blood was pouring out. She placed her hand over the wound and felt light-headed. She looked up at Hannah’s horrified face.

“Sam?”

***

“Sam?”

Chrys’s soft question nearly killed Sam as he raced forward to catch her before she fell. She fell gracefully back into his arms, and he gently lowered her to the ground, putting pressure on her stomach. 

_ “Sam?!” _ Dean’s shout cut through his panic. “Sam? Chrys?!”

“Oh, God,” Hannah moaned, her hands at her mouth.

Sam ignored her. “She got shot, Dean, call 911!” Sam was kneeling, holding Chrys’s face with one hand and holding her stomach with the other. “Come on, beautiful, stay with me.”

Her eyes were fluttering closed, and more incoherent panic flushed through him. “Sam,” she said softly, blood bubbling at the corner of her mouth. “Sam, don’t be mad at Hannah, okay? She's too young, don’t be mad, okay? You have to take care of her, Sammy.” Dean was shouting at a 911 operator over the phone.

Sam nodded. “Okay, shh, okay, I will,  _ we _ will, just don’t talk, beautiful, just shh, okay?”

In true Chrys fashion, she ignored him. She put a hand on his face, and Sam felt her blood smear on his cheek, and a part of him died. “Sam, this is okay,” she said, her eyes still fluttering. “Sam, it’s all right, I can go, I’m not scared.”

He shook his head, tears gathering in his eyes. “I am, I’m scared, don't leave, Chrys, baby, stay with me.”

She shook her head. “Don’t think I have a choice, handsome,” before she lost consciousness.

The sound of the sirens was the sweetest thing Sam had ever heard.

***

Dean sprinted into the ER after Sam, trying to catch his brother. Sam ran to the front desk, slamming his hands down. “Chrys Summers. Chrysanthemum Summers. Where is she?”

The nurse behind the desk cocked an eyebrow, unimpressed with Sam’s sense of urgency. “Relation?”

Lucifer’s words ran through Dean’s head. “Husband. This is Sam Summers, her husband. She was shot, I’m sorry, he’s in shock.” He said shortly, slapping a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s my… She’s my wife. Please, where is she?”

The nurse’s expression had softened. She sat and started typing on the computer. “Okay, Mrs. Summers is in surgery. Fifth floor, elevator on the left.”

***

Sam sat with his head in his hands, staring at the linoleum. His mind was blank, his emotions were blank, everything was blank.

_ Chrys. _

He didn’t know why she was so important to him, he really barely knew her. Hell, he hadn’t even known she’d lived on a beach.

But what he did know was that his world had come to a screeching halt when her blood had started spilling on the ground. And now, he was frozen, and would be until he knew she would live. Because she  _ had _ to live… Right?

“Hey, man, any word?” 

Sam looked up to see Dean holding two cups of coffee. He accepted one and stared at it as Dean settled into the seat next to him. “No.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck, it’s been two hours. What the hell,  _ we _ could have done a faster job getting a bullet out of her.”

Sam didn’t respond, he was too blank. 

_ Chrys. _

***

Two hours later, a surgeon  _ finally _ came out. The blood on his sleeves made Sam’s stomach shrivel.

Sam stood and ran his hands through his hair. “How is she?”   


The doctor eyed him up and down. “You’re Mr. Summers?” Sam nodded. “She made it through surgery. The bullet nicked her lung. It was close, and we had to revive her once. But she made it through surgery.”

Relief and pain warred in Sam’s heart. “Is she going to make it?”

The doctor gave him a long look. “Right now? I give her fifty-fifty. If she makes it through the night, I’m going to up it to seventy-thirty.” The doctor took a breath. “I’m very sorry about this, but she’s fighting hard to come back. If you need anything, let the reception desk know.” The doctor walked away.

Sam felt rooted to the spot.  _ Fifty-fifty. Fifty-fifty. Fifty-fifty. _ The words wouldn’t stop chasing themselves around his head.

***

“Sir? Do you want to go in to see her?” 

Sam looked up at the nurse who had spoken. She looked kind. “Can I? Y-yeah, yeah, I do. Please.”

She led him into Chrys’s room. Sam felt his palms start to sweat, and he wiped them on his jeans as he walked through the door. 

His heart stopped again.  _ How many times is that going to happen before I just up and die? _

She looked pale, really pale.  _ Is she always that pale? _ Her dark hair lay against her skin, they had swept it over her shoulder, and it looked tangled.  _ It would never look like that, she’s always running her fingers through it. _ She looked exhausted, there were bags under her eyes, and she looked almost skeletally thin.

_ She looks awful. _

He approached the bed slowly, in shock. He sank down slowly into the chair next to the bed. “Can I… Can I touch her?”

The nurse had a knowing smile on her face. “You can hold her hand, if you like, Mr. Summers.”

He gingerly took her hand into both of his, bringing her cold knuckles to press his lips against them. “Come on, Chrys,” he whispered into her hand. “Come on, baby, wake up for me.”

He didn’t hear the nurse leave.

***

Chrys woke up in a dark, lavish bedroom done in maroons and deep navy blues. She sat up, wondering where the hell Sammy was, and why she wasn’t in pain, and why she thought she should be in pain.

_ Hannah. Gunshot. I got shot. Sam. I told Sam to let me go. Am I dead? Is this hell? Hell is nice. _

A blonde man walked in, and everything in Chrys clenched recognition and, to her dismay, arousal. “Lucifer.”

He smiled. “Chrysanthemum.” He came and sat on the end of the bed she was laying in. “How are you feeling, dearest?”

She glared. “Don’t call me dearest.”

His smile didn’t falter. “What would you prefer?”

“To be anywhere but here.”

He chuckled. “Oh, Chrysanthemum, you know this is a dream.”

Chrys sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “What do you want, Luci?”

He cocked an eyebrow at the nickname, but said nothing. “I want you, Chrys, you know that.” He placed a hand on her shin. “Always you, Chrysanthemum.”

She frowned again. “Don’t call me Chrys. And you can’t have me.”

“Yes, I can, Chrysanthemum. And once I have you, you will be  _ begging _ me to take you.”

The feeling in her heart told her that his words were true. And the feeling pooling in her belly at his touch was telling her that, too. “No, I won’t. You won’t win, Luci. You’ll never win.”

His cold smile, unfortunately, didn’t dampen the heat pooling between her thighs. “What are you doing to me?” She snapped. 

“You’re drawn to me, Chrysanthemum,” he said softly. “You’ll always be drawn to me.”

She winced, then shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. You won’t win. We’ll save the world.”

He gave her an even look. “Chrysanthemum, Sam will say yes to me.”

The mention of Sam bolstered her. His kind eyes, his hand wrapped around hers. His laugh, the way he curled his hair behind his ear, the heat in his eyes when he looked at her.  _ Sam. _

It didn’t matter that she was attracted to Lucifer. That wasn’t her. That was a surface thing, and it was a result of Lucifer’s meddling in her fucking life.  _ Bastard. _

But Sam. Sam was real. Sam was real, and amazing, and she loved him with everything in her.  _ Sam. _

So she leaned forward and met the devil’s eyes. “Oh, I’m sure he will say yes. You’re very good. If you talk long enough, even  _ I _ will think you’re in the right. It’s part of what makes you terrifying.”

She smiled. “But you won’t win. Sam will say yes, and he will  _ beat you. _ You’re good, you’re very good, but my Sammy is better. I wouldn’t go up against Sam Winchester, Luci, and neither should you.”

He frowned, irritated. “Your faith is misplaced, Chrysanthemum.”

She kept her smile. “If it was misplaced, you wouldn’t feel the need to say that.”

He scowled at her, and she quivered in fear. It took everything she had not to flinch when he reached up and put two fingers against her forehead.

Everything went black.

***

_ Beep.... Beep... Beep... _

Chrys came awake slowly. She was in pain, and every part of her except her hand was cold.

“Fucking ow,” she groaned, without opening her eyes.

“Chrys?”

Sam’s reverent voice made her open her eyes and turn to look at him. She smiled. “Wow, you look like shit, Samuel.”

He chuckled. “Well, you’re feeling better.”

She shook her head and winced. “Uh, no, I’m not. What the fuck happened to me?”

He examined her closely, and she found herself wishing that she had a mirror to make sure she looked all right. “Uh, that woman, I guess Tom’s sister? She shot you.”

Memories trickled through her. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Hey, is she all right?”

He examined her silently again. “What?” she asked defensively. “I know I look like shit, I got shot, leave me alone.”

He shook his head and brought her hand to his lips again. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… You’re kind of amazing.”

_ That… Was not what I was expecting. _ “What?”

He smiled. “Chrys, she  _ shot _ you. She quite literally tried to kill you. And you’re worried about her?”

She frowned. “She’s, like, seventeen. She’s grieving. Tom was her whole world, they were on their own for a long time. So yeah, I’m worried about her. Is she okay?” She narrowed her eyes. “God dammit, Sam, did you have her arrested?”

He was still smiling, and it was making her heart flutter. “No, no, uh, Dean took her. He took her to Bobby’s, he’ll help her figure something out. Where to go from here.”

Chrys relaxed back against her pillows. “Good.” She looked at his tired, but insanely handsome face. “You look tired,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “How long have you been here, Sam?”

He ran a hand down his face. “Um, what time is it?” He pulled his phone out and checked it. “Ah. Like, eighteen hours?”

She blinked. “Sam, tell me you haven’t been sitting by my bedside for eighteen hours.”

He blinked back. “Of course I did.” He gave her a tired smile. “Where else would I be?”

_ He stayed the whole time. _ Chrys had never had expected in a million years that Sam Winchester would stay by her bedside.  _ Oh, Sam. _

Tears gathered in her eyes, and she tried to blink them away. She suddenly craved his closeness. She scooted over on the bed as much as she could and patted the place next to her hip. “Come here, Sam,” she said softly.

She expected a fight, but he crawled into bed without a word. He slipped an arm beneath her head and pulled her as close as possible. He pressed a tender kiss to her head, and the tears slid down her cheek. “Jesus, Chrys,” he whispered against her hair, “You scared the fuck out of me, beautiful.”

She buried her face into his chest and said nothing, just let the tears come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	10. Are Your Parents Home?

“Sam. Get your ass over here and get in this bed.”  
  
Sam chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Chrys, the nurse said no-“  
  
“Fuck her,” Chrys said fervently. “She was missing that vein on _purpose,_ I can tell these things, Sammy. Get over here. Let’s stick it to her.”  
  
He smiled. “Chrys, come on, she’s just doing her job.”  
  
He full-on grinned when she glared at him. “God dammit, Sam, be on my side. Get your exceptional ass onto this bed and cuddle with me.”  
  
He kept grinning and leaned forward to kiss her thoroughly, laughing against her lips when the heart monitor’s beeping increased in tempo.  
  
They’d been there for a week, and Chrys had declared war on the nurses. As far as Sam could tell, it was really only because she hated being in the hospital itself, not because of anything anyone had done to her.  
  
They were, in fact, being exceptionally patient with his wayward woman, who was on edge, and outright rude on occasion. But Chrys was healing much faster than she had any right to be, and while it worried the doctors, Sam suspected it was just one more thing that ‘prepared’ her to be Lucifer’s bride.  
  
“Shut up, Winchester,” she muttered against his mouth, her own smile starting to pull her lips up at the corners.  
  
“Mr. and Mrs. Summers!” A severe voice snapped. Sam jumped back guiltily, and Chrys sulked at the nurse who had walked in. “I must insist that you… Desist.”  
  
***  
  
“God dammit, Chrys, slow down.”  
  
She laughed and kept her quick pace toward the hospital doors. _Fuck, I hate hospitals_ . “No, Sammy, let’s go!”  
  
“Chrys,” he said, exasperated. “You’re still recovering from being shot. Being careful wouldn’t kill you.”  
  
She turned and grinned at him, giddy at the thought of leaving here, walking backwards so she could keep moving. “One, you can’t possibly know that for sure. Two, careful is my middle name.”  
  
He scoffed. “It is not.” There was a beat of silence, then, “Wait, what is your middle name?”  
  
She smiled and waited for him to catch up to her just inside the door. When he got there, it was the most natural thing in the world to thread her fingers through his. “Don’t have one. My parents didn’t believe in labelling me once, much less twice. So they named me after a flower and left it at that.”  
  
She beamed up at him when he laughed. Sam had been… Amazing, while she’d been in the hospital. He’d stayed with her the whole time, sending Dean out regularly for food and clothes. He ate, slept, and showered in her hospital room, she hadn’t had a moment alone since she’d been shot. It had been incredibly comforting, even if she had slept most of the time, to know that he would be there when she woke up.  
  
He tugged her through the door, her bag slung over his shoulder. “Come on, beautiful, let’s get out of here.”  
  
***  
  
As they drove, Sam kept an eye on Chrys in the rear view. She was curled up in the backseat, sleeping like a rock. They’d been on the road for several hours, so he wasn’t surprised. He was really just relieved that she was having a normal reaction to being shot for once.  
  
He looked over at Dean, and promptly decided to ignore the smug, knowing look on his brother’s face. “So, what’s the case?”  
  
Dean looked at him for another beat, then shrugged. “Couple comes home to find the babysitter dead on the couch. Something clawed its way through her skull.”  
  
***  
  
Sam was watching Chrys as they walked back to the motel. She was discussing the case, and he was admiring the way she moved.  
  
“Earth to Sam,” she said happily, her blue eyes twinkling at him. “What are you thinking about?”  
  
He winked at her. “Nothing good. What were you saying?”  
  
She laughed. “I was saying, it sounds to me like it’s the kind of thing kids are told. The tooth fairy, pop rocks and Coke, itching powder. It’s the kind of things normal kids believe when they’re little.”  
  
He frowned. “Normal kids?”  
  
She flashed him an unreadable smile. “I didn’t believe in a whole lot growing up. I thought it was all dumb, I had bigger things to worry about.” He opened his mouth, and she glared at him. “Don’t go all puppy dog eyes on me, Samuel. I don’t want to hear it. I’m not trying to be sad, I’m just saying that’s what it sounds like to me.”  
  
He frowned, but didn’t say anything. He reached out and took her hand, reveling in the way it felt natural when her fingers interlaced through his.  
  
The little bit he’d gotten her to open up about her life before him was distressing. Her childhood had been a series of mental hospitals, different medications, and doctors endlessly poking at her. It really wasn’t a surprise she had hated the hospital she’d been in so much.  
  
Even if his childhood hadn’t been exactly picturesque, his heart ached for Chrys. She deserved better than that.  
  
“Sam,” she said severely, glaring at him. “No sad puppy eyes.”  
  
He smiled and pulled her closer to kiss her. “Sorry, Chrys,” he said softly. “Just thinking.”  
  
They were at the motel door. She fished the key out of her pocket and rolled her eyes at him. “Well, stop thinking about me, and start thinking about the case.”  
  
_I’m always thinking about you,_ he thought, but didn’t say, knowing it would make her uncomfortable in front of Dean.  
  
They walked into the motel to see Dean still eating that fucking ham. Sam made a face. “Dude, seriously. Still with the ham?”  
  
“We don’t have a fridge,” Dean protested through the mouthful of food.  
  
Chrys made a face. “Gross, Winchester.”  
  
He opened his mouth at her, and she laughed, sliding into the seat next to him and kicking him under the table. Their interaction made Sam smile. For some reason, it was important to him that they got along.  
  
Shaking his thoughts away, he spread the map in his hand across the table. “Well, I found something.”  
  
Chrys cocked an eyebrow. “All by yourself, hmm?”  
  
He rolled his eyes. _“We_ found something.” He pointed to the map. “Tooth fairy attack was here, Pop Rocks and Coke was here, then you’ve got itching powder, face freeze, and joy buzzer. All located within a two-mile radius.”  
  
Sam was trying not to be distracted by Chrys leaning forward over the table to look at the map when Dean spoke. “So, we got a blast zone of weird, and inside, fantasy becomes reality. What’s the A-bomb at its center?”  
  
Chrys pointed. “Four acres of farmland, and a house.”  
  
There was a beat of silence before Dean asked, “Our motel isn’t in that circle, by any chance?”  
  
Sam nodded. “Yeah, why?”  
  
Dean held his hand up to show that his palm was covered in hair. Sam made a face. “Ugh, dude-“  
  
Chrys’s burst of laughter took him by surprise. The way she lit up when she laughed took him by surprise, too. “Oh, God, Dean, you idiot-“ she was gasping, trying to speak through her mirth.  
  
Dean glared at her. “Shut up, Summers.”  
  
***  
  
Chrys had a smug smile on her face as they approached the farmhouse that sat at the middle of the chaos. She was in her FBI clothes, and she looked good. Her usual skirts and tank top had been ditched for tight slacks, a blouse, and a blazer. _Take that, Sammy._  
  
She knocked on the door and sent a wink over her shoulder at him. He looked like he was having trouble concentrating.  
  
A boy of about nine years old answered the door, and Chrys was hit with a wave of power emanating off of him so strong that she almost stumbled.  
  
He was blinking at her, too. “Can I help you?” he asked politely.  
  
Dean flashed his, ‘I’m about to lie’ smile, and Chrys gave in to the instinct that was battering away at her.  
  
“Hi,” she said softly, kneeling down onto her knees to look the child in the eye. “My name is Chrys. This is Sam and Dean.”  
  
_“Chrys-”_ Dean hissed.  
  
She ignored him. “Are your parents home?”

He shook his head. “What’s your name?” Chrys asked gently.  
  
“Jesse,” he said hesitantly.  
  
Chrys smiled, and saw his shoulders relax a fraction. “Jesse, we just want to ask you some questions, is that okay? We’ll stay right out here.”  
  
Jesse looked at her. “Are you cops?”  
  
She shrugged. “Kind of, but we don’t have badges. We hunt down bad guys.”  
  
The boy considered her for a long moment, and she let him. The power coming off of this child was incredible, and more than anything, something was telling Chrys that he would need her, and she wanted him to trust her.  
  
He nodded. “Okay.”  
  
She smiled again and looked back up at the Winchesters. “Well?”  
  
Dean was glowering at her, which she ignored. Sam looked at Jesse with curiosity. “Jesse, what do you know about itching powder?”  
  
Jesse’s eyes widened. “That stuff will make you scratch your brains out.”  
  
Chrys’s eyebrows rose. “Pop Rocks and Coke?”  
  
The child looked back at her. “You mix them, and you’ll end up in the hospital. Everyone knows that.”  
  
Chrys nodded, then pulled the buzzer out of her pocket. Jesse’s eyes got even wider. “You shouldn’t have that.”  
  
She tilted her head. “Why’s that?”  
  
“It can electrocute you.”  
  
She shook her head. “Actually, Jesse, it can’t. It’s just a wind-up toy. It’s harmless.”  
  
He looked at her mistrustfully. “So it can’t shock you?”  
  
She shook her head. “Nope. All it does is shake in your hand. It’s actually kinda dumb. See?” She reached back with it in her hand and smacked Dean on the leg.  
  
He yelped and yanked away, glaring down at her. She turned and smiled at Jesse. “See? He’s fine.”  
  
***  
  
Chrys was standing in Jesse’s living room, whispering at Sam. “I’m not leaving him.”  
  
He ran a hand through his hair. “Chrys, we can’t stay here. His parents will come home and wonder what the fuck you’re doing here.”  
  
“And I’m going to be here wondering what the fuck they’re thinking, leaving a kid like that on his own.”  
  
Dean held his hands up in a peacemaking gesture. “You said you’ve never seen anything like it. Seen anything like what?”  
  
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I tend to be tuned in to the powers of heaven or hell, so it could be either. I’m willing to bet he’s either Nephilim or Cambion.”  
  
Dean blinked. “Which are?”  
  
“Hybrids. Nephilim are human and angel hybrids, Cambion are human and demon. Either way, they tend to be extremely powerful, although Cambion are much rarer.”  
  
“So, what, you think one of his parents is an angel?” Sam asked.  
  
She shook her head. “No, I think he’s adopted.”  
  
“I’m what?” Jesse asked from behind her.  
  
The men jumped guiltily, and Chrys turned to look at him. “Hi, Jesse.”  
  
“Hi,” he said, distracted. “You think I’m adopted.”  
  
Chrys sighed. “Yes.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Chrys had always firmly believed that lying to children was stupid. They were smart, and capable, and more equipped to handle any given situation than adults were any day of the week. So she wasn’t going to start now, not with a child who could crush her with a thought.  
  
She walked over to the couch and patted the spot next to her. “Come here, Jesse.”  
  
He approached and sat on the far end of the couch warily. “Why do you think I’m adopted?”  
  
She looked up at Sam and looked at the door. He nodded and pulled Dean with him, silently leaving the room.  
  
She looked back at Jesse. “Jesse, do you believe in God?”  
  
He nodded.  
  
“Okay, what about angels? And demons? And the devil?”  
  
He nodded again.  
  
Chrys examined him for a long moment. “Jesse, I think you’re adopted. I think one of your parents was either an angel or a demon, and then they gave you up for some reason.”  
  
He looked back at her solemnly. “Why do you think that?”  
  
Chrys explained about the strange happenings around town, emphasizing that it was in no way Jesse’s fault.  
  
She sighed. “There’s a war happening, Jesse. Between heaven and hell. It’s more than the usual war happening, there’s actual fighting. And I think both sides are going to want to get their hands on you.”  
  
His eyes widened, and started to fill with tears. Chrys held her arm out, and he scooted to her until she could wrap it around his shoulders. “Why do they want me?” he asked tearfully.  
  
Chrys thought for a moment. “Because you’re immensely powerful, Jesse. You could probably crack the world in half like an egg if you really wanted to.”  
  
He looked up at her skeptically. “I’m nine.”  
  
She smiled. “I know. But you have superpowers.”  
  
He seemed to study her for a minute, and she let him again. “Am… Am I a good guy, or a bad guy?”  
  
She hugged him tight. “You can be either, Jesse. That’s up to you. No one can tell you what to do, okay?” She let a beat of silence pass, then, “I’ll tell you this. You could probably save a lot of people someday, Jesse. But listen, kiddo, this is important.” She looked down and met his bewildered, melancholy eyes. _“You’re_ the one who has to sleep with you at the end of the day. So no matter what everyone around you says, including the good guys, you do what will make sleeping easy, okay?”

  
He nodded. “Okay, Chrys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	11. Rock On, Babe

Chrys had met Jesse’s parents, which had gone surprisingly smoothly. She’d told them she was from the school, just here on a home evaluation. They’d had dinner, which had been lovely. They were nice people who loved their son. Chrys just didn’t want to see them get hurt.

She’d pretended to leave, then circled back and snuck back in after they’d gone to bed. Jesse, apparently, was a bit of a night owl.

“Why did we have to lie to Mom and Dad?” he asked, looking up from the playing cards he was looking at.

Chrys tried hard to think through the pain she was in. Sam and Dean had agreed not to go far, but she could feel agony pulsing behind her eyes. “Sometimes, grown-ups don’t understand things like kids do. It would have upset them, and they would have kicked me out, and you guys would have been unprotected.”

He looked at her. “You’re hurt.”

She nodded. No use lying to him, Jesse was perceptive as fuck. “When I get too far away from Sam, I get a headache.”

“Why?”

She smiled. “That, I think, is a story for another day, Jesse.”

His eyes flicked behind her and widened, and all of the instincts in Chrys had her standing and turning, the chair falling to the floor. She glared. “Castiel.”

“Chrysanthemum,” he said stonily. “How are you even still standing?”

She glared. “I’m real stubborn, Cass.”

Jesse had come up next to her, and she swept her arm out to push him behind her. “Stay behind me, babe,” she said softly, trying to blink as the pain in her head increased.

A small hand at her back. A brief tightness across her whole body.  _ And the pain was gone. _

She blinked, and turned around to the child behind her. “What did you just do?”

He looked up at her. “I just wanted you to stop hurting. I think… I think I just made the pain go away.”

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Chrys accepted and then turned back to Castiel. “Ha,” she said cheerfully, “Outclassed by a littlun. How’s it feel, Angel of the Lord?”

His face darkened. “Chrys, get out of my way.”

She stood her ground, pulling the gun from her waistband and pointing it at him. It wouldn’t kill him, or even hurt him, but the gesture made her feel better. “The only way you will hurt this child is over my cold, dead body, Cass.” She tilted her head. “And I don’t think you  _ can _ kill me. Do you?”

Cass ignored her and looked to the child. “I won’t hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”

“He’s lying, Jesse,” Chrys said sadly.

“I know,” Jesse replied, somehow more sad.

Castiel sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Chrys’s finger tightened on the trigger. “You’re gonna be, anyway.”

Castiel advanced on her, and she heard a crash from the front door, signalling Sam and Dean’s return. She didn’t turn, just kept her gun pointed at the angel.

Between one blink and the next, Castiel disappeared. In his place, was a two-inch tall action figure of the angel. Chrys bent to pick it up, examining it. “Ha,” she said easily. “Suck on that, dick.”

“Chrys!” Sam came to her, his hands on her shoulders. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Jesse got the pain to go away somehow.”

Dean’s eyes widened, then he looked back down at the child. “Good job, kiddo.”

Jesse started to smile again when the door opened. Chrys picked him up by his shoulders and put him in the corner, putting herself in front of him with her arms spread wide. “Stay there, Jesse,” she whispered as the Winchesters put themselves between her and the door. Rolling her eyes, Chrys stepped in front of them, too, pushing Sam in front of Jesse. “Keep him safe, Sammy,” she snarled.

A woman that Chrys didn’t recognize walked in. She flicked her hand, and frowned when nothing happened. “What the fuck?”

“ _ Language,” _ Chrys snapped, “Jesse is nine. Keep it clean.”

The woman sneered. “Ugh, you’re a-”

_ “What _ did I just say?”

The woman rolled her eyes and tried to see around Chrys. “Where is Jesse, by the way?”

Chrys felt a small hand slip into hers, and she gripped Jesse tightly. “You should stay behind Sam.”

“I’m not afraid, Chrys.”

She smiled. “Rock on, babe.”

The demon practically purred when she saw the kid. “Jesse, dear, you’re my-”

“What is she, Chrys?” Jesse interrupted, looking up at Chrys.

She looked down at him. “She’s a demon. The woman she’s possessing is probably your birth mother.”

His eyes filled with tears. “Can we save her?”

She gazed down at him. “I’m gonna try like hell, babe.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

Chrys looked at him. “Jesse, she’s going to want you to go with her. Do you want to?”

_ “Chrys!” _ Sam hissed.

“Shut up, Sam. Jesse gets to decide this. It’s his life.” She smiled down at Jesse. “Whatcha think?”

“Come with me, Jesse,” the demon crooned softly. “We can help you. These people are  _ lying _ to you.”

Jesse looked at the demon with a frown. “Chrys didn’t lie to me. Be quiet.” The demon struggled to speak, but couldn’t. Chrys grinned, then looked down at Jesse.

He gazed up at her for a long moment. “I don’t want to go with her. Can I come with you?”

She winced. “I don’t think I can keep you safe. But if you really want to, I will do my damnedest.”

He nodded. “I do.”

She nodded back. “All right.” She looked back up at the demon, and felt a fierce protectiveness wash over her. “Then you’re with me, babe.”

“She’s lying to you, Jesse! She can’t protect you!” the demon screeched.

Chrys’s concentration broke for a second to snarl at the demon. It was enough.

The Winchesters flew across the wall, and the demon charged at Chrys. Chrys lifted her arms to defend herself, but the demon was strong. She grabbed Chrys and tossed her across the room. When Chrys hit the wall, she felt something rupture in her stomach. She grunted, and she tasted blood. “God  _ dammit! Jesse!” _

“Stop!” The demon flew against the same wall Chrys had crashed into. Chrys took the opportunity to punch the woman across the face. “Bitch,” she snarled softly.

“Jesse,” Sam said softly, his voice desperate. “Jesse, I need to get to Chrys, please.”

Jesse gazed at the men, and they both fell off of the wall. Dean stayed down, grimacing, and Sam ran to Chrys. “Jesus, beautiful, are you all right?”

She nodded, wincing. “Yeah. It’s… It’s possible that another hospital is a good idea, though.”

His face tightened and he moved to pick her up, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Not yet, Sam, hold on.”

She limped forward and dropped to her knees in front of Jesse. She put a hand on his face. “Hey, babe, tell me how you’re doing.”

There were tears in his eyes. “I don’t think I can stay here. My… My parents could have been hurt.”

Tears gathered in Chrys’s eyes, too. “It is going to be a dangerous road, I don’t want to lie to you. It’s going to be hard.”

He nodded. “You got hurt, too.”

“Yes, I did,” she agreed. “But that’s what I do, babe, so don’t you worry about me, okay? Hear me, Jesse?”

He started crying. “But Chrys-”

She placed her hand over his mouth. “No, no worrying about me, deal?”

He nodded reluctantly, and she smiled. “All right then. What do you want to do?” On the last word, blood trickled down the side of her mouth. She wiped it away, not breaking eye contact with Jesse.

He thought for a moment, then nodded. “I want to write my parents a letter.”

She smiled. “Okay. Go on.”

Once Jesse was out of earshot, she turned to Sam. “Sam, I need help standing.”

He rushed to her and picked her up, curling her against his chest. “Are you okay? What happened?”

She laid her head against his chest. “Shut up, Sam,” she said softly. “Not now.”

He frowned. “Chrys, you need a hospital.”

She nodded against him. “Yes, and a million dollars, a way to beat the devil, and a man to fall wildly in love with me and take me away. But none of those are here, and Jesse comes first. So shut up.”

He growled, and the rumble it caused in his chest soothed her somehow. She closed her eyes and soaked in the close contact with him.

A few minutes later, Jesse came back downstairs. Chrys heard him on the stairs, and made Sam put her down.

Jesse came and looked up at her. “I should go alone.”

She shook her head and knelt again, wrapping him in a hug. “Hey, no, we’ll stay together. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

He sniffled against her shirt. “I don’t want to leave my Mom and Dad.”

She nodded, tears pricking her eyes again. “I know, babe, I know. We’ll figure out a way for you to get back to them someday, okay?”

He nodded. “Okay.”

***

Sam picked a sleeping Jesse up out of the backseat of the Impala, then watched Chrys gingerly get out, too. She looked tired, and the hospital band around her wrist made him a little sick to his stomach.

She smiled at him. “Come on, Sammy, let’s put the kids to bed.”

He smiled and followed her and Dean into the motel room, kicking the door shut behind him.

Jesse had turned Cass back, then transported him somewhere so they could leave. Cass’s words about what Jesse would do if he was unhappy had made Sam nervous, but Chrys seemed to have a calming effect on the kid. Once he had gotten his things together, he’d crawled into the backseat of the Impala and fallen asleep on Chrys’s lap in a few minutes. It was amazing.

When Sam came out of the bathroom later, Chrys was sitting next to the couch where Jesse was sleeping, brushing hair off of his face. He came and stood behind her, placing a hand on the back of her head. “How’s he doing?” he whispered softly.

She leaned into his leg. “He’s horrible, Sam, he just left his whole life behind. He’s tired. We’ll get everything else figured out in the morning.”

“All right, beautiful. Let’s go to bed.”

He helped her up and curled into bed with her, her back pressed into his chest. He put a gentle arm around her middle and buried his face into her hair. “Scared me again, beautiful.”

She sighed and settled back into him. “I know. I’m sorry.”

He pressed a kiss to her head. “I’ll probably let it go if it stops happening.”

He heard the smile in her voice. “No deal, Winchester.”

***

A few hours later, Sam woke up to a small body pressed to his. He cracked an eye open to see Jesse nestled between he and Chrys. Chrys was turned toward him, her arm around the kid between them, her head using Sam’s outstretched arm as a pillow.

He took a minute to look at her, her lovely face relaxed in sleep, her long hair wild around her face. He also studied the way her body was curled around Jesse’s, like she had positioned herself that way to protect him.

Sam felt something ache in his chest as he drifted back to sleep.

***

The next morning, Sam woke to an empty bed. Frowning, he sat up, looking around for Chrys. When all he saw was Dean, he realized that Jesse was gone, too. Panic wormed it’s way into his gut as he dressed quickly and ran out the door.

He was greeted to the sight of Chrys and Jesse walking back toward the room through the parking lot, hand-in-hand. Jesse had a bag in his other hand, and Chrys was carrying a cardboard drink tray with three coffees in it. She was looking down at him, and Sam watched her face light up and laugh at something the kid had said. Jesse was grinning up at her, clearly smitten, and Sam felt a real connection to the boy for the first time.

Jesse wasn’t the only one a little smitten with Chrys.

She looked up to see him watching them and grinned as they got closer. Once they were close enough, she tilted her face up, and it was almost instinct to lean down and kiss her softly. “Morning, you,” she murmured against his lips.

“Are you two married?”

Chrys grinned up at Sam, then looked down at Jesse. “Nope, we’re just together.”

The child nodded. “Okay. Can we eat now?”

Sam chuckled and backed out of the way. “Lead the way, Jesse.”

***

“Her name is Serene, Jesse, and she’s one of my best friends,” Chrys said soothingly, straightening Jesse’s jacket.

They were in a bus station, waiting for Serene to arrive to bring Jesse back with her. Chrys knew that he could get there on his own much quicker, probably, but routine was soothing.

He was looking at her sadly. “Why can’t I stay with you?”

She cupped his face with her hand. “We talked about this, babe. I don’t think I can keep you safe. As soon as I have everything else figured out, I’ll try to find a way to visit, okay?” She smiled. “You’re not the only superhero, Jesse.”

“Chrys?” Chrys stood and smiled at Serene, who was standing nervously behind her with Kevin. Chrys had called them that morning, explaining the fuck up that was her life in full for the first time. They had been upset with her for not telling them the truth, but had agreed to take Jesse in until they figured something else out. Chrys put them in contact with a powerful witch coven close by, whose head priestess was a trusted friend, so they could ward Seren and Kevin’s home against detection from demons, angels, and anything in between.

“Jesse,” Chrys said softly. “This is Serene and Kevin. They’re going to help you out, okay?”

He stepped forward and held his hand out. “Hi. I’m Jesse.”

Chrys couldn’t have loved Kevin more when the man stepped forward and took Jesse’s hand with an air of seriousness. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jesse. My name is Kevin, and this is my wife, Serene.”

Serene came forward and smiled. “Hi, Jesse. I’m excited to have you living with us.”

Jesse glanced back at Chrys, his eyes flicking down to her stomach, where there had been some internal tearing. “It’s not always safe to have me.”

Kevin shrugged easily. “Nothing’s always safe, kiddo. But when you’re with family, at least you’re with people who will stay with you regardless.” His reproaching eyes went to Chrys, who looked down at her shoes.

After some small talk and hugs all around, Chrys watched the three of them board the bus back to home. She’d insisted that Kevin and Serene not tell her where it was, so it would be kept secret and safe.

She didn’t realize there were tears in her eyes, or that her shoulders were shaking, until Sam wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into him. “Hey, they’re going to be all right, Chrys. Jesse’s smart, and Serene and Kevin are good people.”

She put her arms around his waist and nodded, sniffling. “I know, I just hate it. I wish he could have a normal life, away from all of this.”

She felt Sam press a kiss to the top of her head. “I know, beautiful, I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	12. Sounds About Right

Chrys woke up to Sam’s stubble scraping against her inner thighs, her first breath coming out a gasp when she felt his hands on her knees, pinning her legs against the bed. She whimpered and reached down to run her fingers through his hair, whimpering when he sucked a dark mark onto her inner thigh.  _ “Fuck, _ Sam!”

She felt him smile against her skin. “Morning, beautiful,” he rasped, leaning forward to swipe his tongue across her folds quickly. It was over before she’d realized he’d done it.

“Oh, Sam, please,” she whispered, trying to move her hips up to close the distance between his mouth and her core again.

“Hmm, good girl, tell me you want me,” he purred against her leg. She looked down to see his darkly sparkling brown eyes looking up at her, and it sent another rush of heat through her.

She let go of his hair to prop herself up on her elbows to get a better view of him, the sight of him settled between her legs making her breathe harder. She pitched her voice low, “I want you, Sam.”

He growled softly and attacked her with his mouth, causing her to cry out and drop back down, covering her mouth with her hands. She was helpless to stop her hips pressing into his face as he took her clit into his mouth, sucking gently.

He moved one hand away from her knee to put that leg on his shoulder, then teased her entrance with his fingers. “Sam! Oh, Sam,  _ please,” _ she whimpered, pressing her hips closer to him.

He gave in and sank a finger into her, making her back arch as she reached down to thread her fingers through his hair again. He moved his finger slowly, adding a second, then a third at a leisurely pace.

The pressure inside her was building fast, and she couldn’t stop the way her hips bucked, or the way her legs clenched. “Oh, fuck,  _ Sam!” _ she cried out as she came, fisting her hands in his hair and holding him against her as he gently licked her clean as she came down.

She kept her eyes closed as he shifted and came up to lean over her, settling again between her legs, the tip of his cock pressed against her. She cracked one eye open and turned to look up at him, automatically wrapping her legs around his slim waist, her hands coming to rest on his biceps. “Morning,” she murmured leaning up to lick her juices from his lips and chin.

He captured her mouth with hers and sank into her slowly, and she relished the feel of him stretching her. He set a slow, gentle pace, leaving her just as breathless and desperate for him.

She leaned up to press her lips against his warm neck, running her teeth against the skin there. When he grunted, she smiled and sucked hard, leaving her own mark on him.  _ Take that. _

He started moving faster, making her gasp. He let his weight rest on one elbow and drifted his other hand down her body, his callouses sending shivers through her. He moved his fingers in hard, fast circles on her clit, leaning down to brush his lips against her ear. “Come for me, Chrys,” he growled softly.

_ “Fuck!” _ she cried out, coming apart at the seams and trembling hard. He sank into her hard one, two, three more times before shuddering above her in his own orgasm.

He hooked an arm around her and rolled, settling her on his chest. She lay her head down, ear pressed to his sweaty skin, listening to his thundering heartbeat slow. He gently threaded his fingers through her hair, combing it all the way to the ends before starting again at her scalp.

It was extremely relaxing, and she was almost asleep again when his chuckle made her crack an eye open. “We have to get up, beautiful,” he said softly, not moving an inch despite his words. “We have a case.”

“Let Dean work the case,” she muttered, nestling into him. “Let’s sleep all day.”

“Tempting,” he said wistfully, still playing with her hair. “But any second, he’s going to start banging on that door, trying to get us out of bed.

As if summoned by magic, the front door started pounding. “Hey, could you guys stop fucking for a second so we can go to work? Thank you!”

***

“One more time, the FBI is here why, exactly?”

Chrys resisted the urge to roll her eyes, barely. Dealing with local authorities was one more arena in which Sam was a much nicer person than she was. Not even the pleasant humming in her veins could keep her mood up.

Dean seemed to be on her side, though. “Might have something to do with one of your locals getting his head ripped off,” he snapped. Chrys cheered internally.

The officer looked at them like they were dim, which made her want to strangle the man. “Bill Randolph died from a bear attack,” he said slowly.

“How sure are you that it was a bear?” Chrys asked, trying to be polite. She was guessing that she’d failed, because Sam put a subtle, warning hand on the small of her back.

The officer looked confused. “What else would it be?”

“Well, whatever it was, it chased Mr. Randolph through the woods, smashed through his front door, followed him up the stairs, and killed him in his bedroom,” Dean snapped again. “Is that common, a bear doing all that?”

The officer looked at them evenly again. “Depends on how pissed off it is.”

***

“Welp,” Chrys said evenly. “That looks to be a Hulk-sized hole, Sammy.”

They were looking at the Randolph’s home, which was in a nice, suburban area. Cul-de-sac and little plastic tricycles included. The lawn was neatly manicured, the hedges trimmed, the newspaper tossed oh-so-perfectly on the front porch.

It was perfect, except for the Hulk-sized hole in the side, of course.

Sam’s eyes were wide. “What the fuck?”

The wife of the victim had claimed that Lou Ferrigno, in Hulk costume, had come in to kill her husband. Dean had opted to go back to the motel while Sam and Chrys went to the crime scene. Where there was a Hulk-sized hole in the side of the house.

Sam put his hand on the small of Chrys’ back and started to guide her toward the house, and she started chuckling. “What the fuck, indeed,” she said, amused.

He shot her a smile. “Just look around, Chrys, let’s see if we can find anything that can help us figure out what’s going on.”

She started up the stairs, intending to look for the bedroom. Instead, she was distracted by the small bathroom on the way there.

She walked in, awareness sending tingles up and down her spine. There was the tiniest of cracks in the bathroom mirror. Chrys stared at it for a long time, her humor long gone. She opened the medicine cabinet, examining the contents. “Sam! Found something!”

He came up the stairs to join her in the cramped bathroom. “Me, too,” he said, “But you first.”

She pointed to the mirror. “There’s a crack in the mirror,” she pointed to the medicine cabinet, “and about eight different anti-depressants and painkillers in here.” She looked up at him. “Someone was being abused, and I’m willing to bet it wasn’t Mr. Randolph.”

Sam nodded somberly. “Well, that sounds about right. I think I know what we’re dealing with.”

His handful of candy wrappers just confused her.

***

They were on their way to respond to a call that had come through on the police scanner, and Chrys was nervous. Sam wanted to  _ talk _ to the trickster, try to get it to help them. He’d said it was powerful, more powerful than anything they’d ever come across. He’d told her about the Mystery Spot, and she was planning on having a few words with this bastard about  _ that. _

But really, she was just very, very nervous for some reason.

They pulled into the parking lot of the warehouse the call had come from, but it was empty. Chrys frowned, her unease growing by the second. “Where the hell is everyone?”

Dean nodded. “There was a murder here, and there’s no police cars. There’s nobody. How’s that look to you?” he asked Sam.

Sam winced. “Crappy.”

Dean handed a stake to each of them, then started toward the door of the warehouse. Chrys was on high alert, every nerve tingling with awareness.

Which didn’t end up mattering, because as soon as they stepped through the warehouse door, the Winchesters disappeared, and pain so devastating and bright shot through Chrys that she almost immediately lost consciousness.

***

Sam looked around at the hospital they were in, his mind reeling. He looked at Dean, who looked just as confused, and was muttering.

Two women wearing scrubs walked by, eyeing them. Dean straightened up, preening a little, and Sam was just irritated. “What the fuck?”

The blonde woman winked at him. “Doctor.”

“Doctor?”

Dean turned and opened the door they’d just come through. It was a supply closet, and housed two people making out a little obnoxiously. “Chrys, we’re not that gross, are we?” Sam asked with a wince, turning to look at her.

She wasn’t there. “Chrys?”

Dean looked around, too. “Where the hell is she?”

A brunette walked up and stood in front of Sam. He looked down, irritated.

“Doctor,” she said sharply, before she slapped him.

“Ow!”

“Seriously,” she said severely.

He looked back at her, confused. “What?”

She looked up at him, weirdly intense passion on her face. “Seriously? You're brilliant, you know that? And a coward. You're a brilliant coward.”

Sam blinked. “Um, what the fuck are you talking about?”

She slapped him again. “As if you didn’t know!” She stalked away.

Sam turned to Dean, panic starting to thrum in his veins the longer he didn’t know where Chrys was, or more importantly, how far away she was.

Dean, however, looked like a kid at Christmas. “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe what?”

Dean pointed at the woman. “That's Dr. Piccolo. Dr. Ellen Piccolo, the sexy yet earnest doctor at-” he gestured at the sign over the reception desk. “Seattle Mercy Hospital.”

Sam stared at his brother for a minute. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The doctor getups. The, the sexy interns. The 'seriously's. It all makes sense.”

Sam shook his head. “What makes sense? What's going on?”

“We’re in  _ Dr. Sexy, MD.” _

***

“I thought you said you weren’t a fan,” Sam snapped, beyond irritated now. Dean was going on and on about this stupid show, and Chrys wasn’t with them. Sam was panicking. How long could she be away from him before she died? Or at least sustained some serious permanent damage?

“I'm not. I'm not,” Dean said, waving his hand. Suddenly, he stopped, staring across the hall they were in. “Oh, boy.”

Sam turned. “What?”

“It’s him.”

“Who?”

“It’s him, it’s Dr. Sexy.”

A man stopped in front of them. He nodded to Dean. “Doctor.”

Dean grinned. “Doctor.”

The man turned to Sam. “Doctor.”

Sam just glared until Dean hit him on the arm. “Doctor,” he said begrudgingly.

The doctor turned to Dean. “You want to give me one good reason why you defied my direct order to do the experimental face transplant on Mrs. Biehl?”

Dean looked confused. “One reason? Sure.”

Dean looked down, clearly trying to think, when Sam watched his brother tense. Dean grabbed Dr. Sexy and slammed him back against the wall. “You're not Dr. Sexy. Part of what makes Dr. Sexy sexy is the fact that he wears cowboy boots. Not tennis shoes.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’re not a fan.”

Dean glared. “It’s a guilty pleasure.”

The doctor against the wall was squirming. “Call security!”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, go ahead, pal. See, we know who you are.”

Suddenly, everything around them froze. Sam tried to concentrate on what was happening through his panic and fury.

The doctor grinned and turned into the trickster. “You guys are getting better!”

Sam was beyond angry. He pushed Dean away and slammed the trickster harder into the wall. “Where the fuck is Chrys?”

For the first time since Sam had met him, the trickster looked confused. “Chrys?”

“The woman who was with us,” Dean snapped. “Chrys Summers.”

The trickster paled. “Chrys  _ Summers?” _

Sam glared. “You know her.”

The trickster stared evenly back at them. “Survive the next twenty-four hours, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

Dean blinked. “Survive what?”

“The game!” The trickster disappeared.

“Fuck!”

***

Chrys woke up in a truly obnoxious room. Bright green and blue Hawaiian flowers decorated the walls. She winced, dull pain still pulsing through her head. “Where the fuck am I?”

“How ya feelin’, sweetness?”

Chrys swivelled and stared at the man in front of her. Shaggy brown hair fell over his sparkling, mischievous hazel eyes. He was wearing a doctor’s coat over scrubs, and he was leaning in the doorway of the bedroom she’d woken up in. “Who the fuck are you?”

The power radiating off of him was intense, just as intense as Jesse’s had been. She backed up on the bed, trying to figure out how she was going to get around him and get out of here before he squashed her like a bug.

“Trickster,” he said cheerfully, “My friends call me Loki.”

Chrys glared, her natural prickliness winning over her nerves. “Where are Sam and Dean?”

He shook his head. “They have a lesson to learn. You just sit tight while they learn it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

He chuckled. “They’ll catch on eventually. They’re not bright, but hit them over the head enough times, the idea starts to sink in.”

“Where are they?” Chrys asked again, irritated.

“Not here.”

She blinked. “That’s impossible. Sam’s got to be close.” She flipped the blankets off of her legs and stood. “I’m going to find him.”

He shook his head, holding a hand up. She was pinned where she was, her heart thudding with realization. “You’re really not.”

“Holy fuck. You’re an archangel.”

He blinked. “No, sweetheart,” he spoke slowly, as if to a child, “I’m a trickster. You see, I’m a-”

“You’re an archangel.” She shook her head. “Holy shit.” Then she resumed glaring at him. “What did you do to Sam?”

He was staring at her. “Why would you think I’m an angel?”

She rolled her eyes. “You obviously know who I am, or I would have gone with Sam and Dean to wherever the hell you took them. Which is where, again?”

He was still staring at her. “How did you know?”

She sighed. “The power coming off of you is intense, fly boy. And angel powers don’t work on me to date, with the exception of Lucifer… So it stands to reason that only other archangels would be able to mojo me.”

He examined her closely for a few long moments, and then she could suddenly move again. She stayed still, though, trying to gauge his reaction. Archangels scared the piss out of her.

“So,” he said conversationally. “You’re Lucifer’s meant to be.”

Chrys shook her head. “No, I’m Sam’s meant to be, and Lucifer corrupted me.” The distinction had become very important to her.

“Well, you’re… Meaner than I thought you would be.”

She frowned. “Fuck you.”

He laughed. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet my future sister-in-law.”

Fear shot through her, and she covered it with more anger. “Look, I don’t really care who you are. Honestly. Just take me to Sam, I know he’s close by.”

He shook his head. “He’s not, I’m telling you. He and Dean are… Indisposed.”

“Well, then why am I not in crippling pain?”

He blinked. “Because I blocked it.”

Chrys blinked back, completely shocked. In less than two weeks, two separate beings had done what she hadn’t been able to accomplish for  _ years. _ “What do you mean, you blocked it?”

He shrugged. “I had to concentrate, but I blocked it.” He winked. “Can’t have Luci’s little missus dying on me, now, can I?”

“You call him Luci, too?”

***

Sam got out of the car that he had just been, feeling disconcerted and angry beyond belief.  _ Where the fuck is Chrys? _

“Happy?” The trickster asked cheerfully.

Dean was staring at him evenly. Sam came to stand next to his brother. “Tell me one thing,” Dean said crossly. “Why didn’t the stake kill you?”

The trickster shrugged. “I am the  _ trickster.” _

Dean shook his head. “Or maybe you’re not.”

Sam held up the lighter and tossed it onto the ring of holy fire around where the ‘trickster’ had been standing. “Maybe you’ve always been an angel.”

The trickster laughed. “A  _ what? _ Somebody slip a mickey in your power shake, kid?”

Dean smirked coldly. “I'll tell you what. You just jump out of the holy fire and we'll call it our mistake.”

The trickster chuckled, then clapped. They were back in the warehouse. “Well played, boys. Well played. Where'd you get the holy oil?”

“Well, you might say we pulled it out of Sam's ass.”

Sam didn’t hear anything after that. Chrys was crumpled on the floor in the corner.  _ “Chrys!” _

He ran to her, falling to his knees and gathering her up in his arms. “Oh, God, Chrys, are you all right?”

She moaned and pressed her face into his chest. “Sam?”

He laughed softly, cupping her face in his hand. “Jesus, are you all right, beautiful? What did he do to you?”

She groaned. “Um, nothing. He made sure I wasn’t in pain, and put me in a room until you guys… Did whatever you did?” She looked around. “What did you do? Is this the warehouse?”

Sam nodded, trying to swallow down the emotions threatening to overwhelm him, even as he didn’t really understand them. “Yeah,” he said huskily. “Yeah, it is.”

She looked up at him, surprised. Her eyes softened and she ran a hand along his jaw. “Hey, Sam, I’m all right. He didn’t hurt me.”

He nodded and pulled her up to press his lips against her forehead. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

He helped her to her feet, arm wrapped protectively around her waist. They approached Dean, who was still talking to the angel.

“Shut your cakehole,” the angel snapped. “You don't know anything about my family. I love my father, my brothers. Love them. But watching them turn on each other? Tear at each other's throats? I couldn't bear it! Okay? So I left. And now it's happening all over again.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Chrys grumbled loudly. All three men looked at her. She glared at the angel. “Just shut up, Gabriel. Everyone’s got family issues. Get over it. Quit pulling the Winchester’s strings.”

Gabriel gave her an even look. “I’m not Cass, Chrysanthemum. You aren’t protected from me.”

She stood and strode forward, pausing at the holy fire, then stepping deliberately over it. “Bring it, asshole,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “I’m not scared of you.” She stepped until they were almost nose to nose. Sam felt panic grip his heart.  _ God dammit, woman. _ And he still couldn’t help but admire her bravery.

She was glaring into the archangel’s hazel eyes. “You can either help us, or don’t. I don’t give a fuck about your little family spat. I don’t care if it was Sam and Dean’s ‘destiny’ to do this. I don’t care that you’re tired of your brothers fighting. Join the fucking club, man up, and pick a goddamn side, Gabe.”

Sam frowned. “Destiny?”

“Not now, Samuel,” she said softly, not looking away from Gabriel. “I am so tired of angels fucking with the Winchester family, and I’m not even  _ part _ of the Winchester family.” That pinged at Sam’s heart. “Are you going to help us, or aren’t you?”

His silence was all the answer they needed. Sam had to restrain himself from dragging Chrys out of the circle of fire, instead wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close as soon as she got close to him. She buried her face in his chest and sighed. “I tried, I’m sorry, Sammy.”

“It’s all right, Chrys, don’t be,” he murmured, wrapping his other hand around the back of her head and pressing her into him.

Gabriel was watching all of this dispassionately. “So, as much fun as watching the two of you hold hands and declare your undying love for one another, now what? We stare at each other for the rest of eternity?”

***

Chrys was in the bed of the motel room next to Sam, her head on his bare chest. She listened to his heartbeat, willing it to lull her to sleep. It wasn’t working, but it gave her something to think about besides the way Sam had reacted upon seeing her again.

He’d acted like… Someone who cared about her.

_ Stop it, _ she told herself harshly.  _ He doesn’t love you now, and he’s not going to love you later. You’re just some woman he was saddled with, and he doesn’t want you to die because he’s a good person. And don’t forget, you’ve kind of become an easy lay. So stop it. _

Her heart, however, wasn’t listening, and was lighter than it had been in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	13. Shut Up, Summers

“That’s great, babe! Tell me about school.”

Sam looked over at Chrys in the passenger seat, talking to Jesse on the phone. She had her back leaned against the door, her hair spilling over one shoulder, and her feet resting in his lap. He squeezed her slim ankles briefly before turning back to watch the road.

They were on their way back to Bobby’s, with Dean asleep in the backseat after they had gotten away from Gabriel. Sam was still a little shocked about the trickster’s actual identity.  _ I tried to stab that guy. _

“All right, Jesse, well take care of yourself, okay?” Chrys smiled, and it softened her face. “Okay, babe, talk to you soon.” She flipped the phone shut and smiled at Sam, warming a little part of him. “Jesse’s doing really well. I knew Kevin and Serene would be a good fit.”

He flashed her a smile before facing forward again. “Good.”

She nodded and leaned back against the door, closing her eyes. “Wake me up when we get to Bobby’s, Sammy,” she said with a soft sigh.

Before she could get to sleep, Dean’s phone started buzzing in the back. Dean started awake with an ungraceful snort. “What the fuck?” he muttered, pulling his phone out. He sat up and Sam met his eyes in the rear view. “Chuck needs us.”

Chrys frowned, having sat up as well. “Who the hell is Chuck?”

***

Chrys followed Sam up the steps in front of the hotel they’d been called to. A skinny, scruffy man in a hoodie stood there, looking nervous. As they passed the parking lot, Chrys noticed a lot of Impalas. Like… A  _ lot. _ She frowned.

She turned when Sam spoke. “Chuck! There you are.”

The scruffy man turned, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “Guys?” He looked at Chrys. “Who are you?”

“This is Chrys,” Dean introduced gruffly. “What’s going on?”

Chuck paled. “ Ah, nothing. You know, I'm just kinda hanging. What are you guys doing here?”

Chrys squinted her eyes. “You text Dean. This address, ‘life or death situation.’”

Chuck looked at Dean. “I didn’t send you a text.”

Dean threw his hands in the air. “We drove all night!”

Chuck shook his head. “I'm sorry, I don't understand what could…” Comprehension dawned on his face. “Oh, no.”

Sam glared. “What?”

An unpleasantly familiar voice rang from the top of the stairs. “Sam! You made it!”

Chrys narrowed her eyes as the girl ran to Sam. Sam made apologetic eye contact with Chrys, then looked back down at the woman in front of him. “Uh, Becky, right?”

Becky squealed. Actually  _ squealed. _ “Oh, you remembered.” She pitched her voice low. “You’ve been thinking about me.”

Chrys’s temper snapped.  _ This bitch. _ “All right,  _ Becky,” _ she snarled, ignoring the amused look on Sam’s face. “You’re going to want to back the fuck up.” She moved between the other woman and Sam, glaring down at Becky with her arms crossed. She didn’t soften when Sam put his big hand on her hip, or tried not to, anyway.

“Becky, did you take my phone?” Chuck asked from behind her.

Becky turned to look at him. “I just borrowed it from your pants.”

Chuck winced. “Becky-“

“What? They’re going to want to see it!”

“See what?” Sam and Dean asked in unison.

Chrys grit her teeth when Becky squealed again. “Oh my God! I love it when they talk at the same time!”

Chrys turned to look up at Sam. “Can I shoot her?”

He grinned and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her back into him to press a kiss against the side of her head. “Not in public you can’t.” Becky glared, and Chrys felt smug.

A man walked through the doors of the hotel. “Hey, Chuck? Come on pal, it’s show time.”

Becky squealed again, Chrys growled at her, and Chuck winced. “Guys, I’m sorry. For everything.”

***

Chrys’s peals of laughter ringing through the halls were in turn enchanting and irritating Sam. She was wiping tears from her eyes and holding her stomach. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, I’m trying-“ she was interrupted by another fit of giggles.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’d believe you if you could stop laughing for two minutes.” That set her off again, and she was trying to keep it together as they entered the auditorium.

The man who had summoned them in was standing at a microphone in front of the small crowd. Sam, Dean, and Chrys stood against the back wall. Chrys was still chuckling when the man started speaking.

“Welcome to the first annual  _ Supernatural _ convention. At three forty-five in the Magnolia room, we have the panel,  _ Frightened Little Boy, the Secret Life of Dean. _ And at four-thirty, there’s the  _ Homoerotic Subtext of Supernatural.” _ Sam had to physically put his hand over Chrys’s mouth to keep her from laughing out loud. He also had to ignore Becky, who was glaring daggers at the two of them.

“Oh,” the manager continued. “And, of course, the big hunts starts at seven sharp!” The crowd applauded. “But right now, right now I'd like to introduce the man himself. The creator, the writer of the  _ Supernatural _ books. The one, the only, Carver Edlund!”

Sam felt another wave of irritation wash over him when Chuck took the stage. He made eye contact with Dean over Chrys’s shaking shoulders, and saw that his brother was stonefaced, too.

A whine of feedback rang through the room. “Okay,” Chuck said nervously. “Okay, good, this isn’t nearly as awkward as I…” He looked around the crowd, then cleared his throat. “Dry mouth.” He took a few long drinks of water, and there was complete silence as he did so.

Chuck nodded and looked out to the crowd. “Okay, uh… Ahem. So, I guess… Questions?”

Every hand in the room shot up, much to Sam’s surprise. Chrys had stopped laughing and was shaking him off, clearly wanting to listen. He let her go.

Chuck pointed. “Uh, you?”

A skinny young man leapt to his feet. “Hey, Mr Edlund. Uh... Big fan. I was just wondering, where'd you come up with Sam and Dean in the first place?”

Chuck glanced nervously back at Sam and Dean. Sam raised his eyebrows, interested to hear how Chuck would finagle himself out of that.

“Oh, ah, I… It just came to me.”

Hands shot into the air again.

“Okay, yeah. The hook man.”

A man with a thick German accent spoke. “Ah, yeah. Why in every fight scene, Sam and Dean are having their gun knocked away by the bad guy? Why don't they keep it on some kind of bungee?”

Sam’s eyebrows rose, trying to figure out how that would work, when Chuck answered. “I… Yeah, I really don’t know.”

The German man nodded. “Ja, follow up. Why can't Sam and Dean be telling that Ruby is evil? I mean, she is clearly manipulating Sam into some kind of moral lapse. It's obvious, nein?”

Sam barely grabbed Chrys in time to keep her from attacking the man, but she was low key growling. He wrapped an arm around her waist. “Chrys, come on, please chill,” he whispered, ignoring her growl.  _ Not laughing now, are you? _

Apparently, Becky was on the same wavelength.  _ “Hey! _ If you don't like the books, don't read ‘em, Fritz.”

Chuck held his hands up in a peacekeeping gesture. “Okay, okay, just… Okay, it’s okay. So, next question.” Hands shot up again. “Yeah, you.”

“Yeah, at the end of the last book, Dean goes to hell. So, what happens next?”

***

“Hey,  _ I _ didn't call you!”

Chrys was gritting her teeth, trying to convince herself that outright decking Becky was a bad idea, as Chuck tried to defend himself.

Sam frowned. “He means the books, Chuck. Why are you publishing more books?” His big hand on Chrys’s back was going a long way toward keeping her from attacking the other woman at the table, who was shooting come hither looks at Sam.

Chuck blinked. “Um... For food and shelter?”

Dean glared at the writer. “Who gave you the rights to our life story?”

“An Archangel, and I didn't want it!”

Sam shook his head. “Well, deal's off, okay? No more books. Our lives are not for public consumption.” He shot a look at Becky, which made Chrys glare at the other woman again.

Chuck looked at Becky. “Ah… Becky. Would you excuse us for just a second?”

***

Chrys was standing on stage with Chuck, as Sam and Dean fought the  _ actual _ ghosts haunting this stupid convention. Chuck was looking at her nervously, and she was gritting her teeth.  _ You’re helping keep these people safe, you’re helping keep these people safe. _

This was stupid. She hated this. She didn’t like  _ birthday _ parties, much less a group of people asking her ridiculously personal questions about the man she was in love with and his brother.  _ You’re helping keep these people safe. _

A timid woman stood up. Chrys noted with approval that she wasn’t in costume. “Hi,” she said shyly, and Chrys gave her a smile. “I, uh, I was wondering why there aren’t any long-term romantic interests for Sam or Dean?”

Chuck blinked, then looked at her. “Anna?” he asked, using the alias he’d given her on the spot. “Do you want to take this one?”

She glared at him when he held the microphone to her. She took it, then turned back to the crowd, butterflies in her stomach. “Well, that’s a good question…”

She thought about it for a moment. She thought about her life, and her life now with the boys. Then she shook that away. This wasn’t about  _ her. _ And then she had her answer.

“There’s no romantic interests because that’s not what the story is about. The story is about two brothers, fighting to save themselves and each other. When you put romance into that story, it tends to overtake everything else.” She shook her head. “Romance would distract from every good message in  _ Supernatural.” _ She smiled gently at the girl. “That’s what fanfiction is for.”

The girl gave her a shy smile and sat back down. Chrys handed the mic back to Chuck and sat down, her mind whirring, her heart aching. Sam and Dean, they were never going to let her in. Not for real. Yes, they felt responsible for her, and yes, she and Sam were sleeping together. But like she’d just said… This story wasn’t about her.

She stifled the tears in her eyes and watched Chuck field more questions. “No, there’s really no such thing as a Croatoan virus for down there. You really should see a doctor.”

***

Chrys found Dean outside. He was talking to two men, cosplaying as Sam and Dean.  _ I’m learning a lot tonight. _

Dean was speaking. “You know, I gotta hand it to you guys. You really saved our asses back there. So ah, you know, thanks.” He thought for a moment. “Guys, I don’t even know your names.”

One of the other men smiled. “Oh. Well, I'm Barnes. This is Demian. What's yours?”

Dean thought for a moment, then, “Dean. The real Dean.”

Demian and Barnes burst into laughter. “Ahhh, yeah, right! Me, too!”

“Get the hell out of here Dean!”

Dean chuckled. “Well, anyway. Thanks. Really.” He turned back and spotted Chrys. She smiled and came to stand next to him when Demian spoke again.

“You’re wrong, you know.”

Chrys frowned, and Dean turned around. “Sorry?”

The man looked earnest. “About  _ Supernatural _ . No offense but I'm not sure you get what the story’s about.”

Chrys smirked along with Dean. “Is that so?”

Demian nodded. “In real life, he sells stereo equipment. I fix copiers. Our lives suck. But to be Sam and Dean, to wake up every morning and save the world? To have a brother who would die for you? Well, who wouldn't want that?”

Chrys had tears standing in her eyes when he was done.  _ He gets it. _

Dean sounded a little hoarse, himself. “Maybe you got a point.”

***

Dean watched Chrys out of the corner of his eye. She was quiet, which was weird, because she’d been mocking them the entire day.

“Stop it, Dean, I’m fine.”

He blinked.  _ Perceptive little thing, isn’t she? _ “Stop what?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Dean, I’m just thinking about what Demian said.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah, what a crock.”

She smiled, wrapping her arms around her middle as they walked. “No, it’s nice.”

He blinked. “What’s nice?”

She shrugged, and didn’t look at him. “Just… Knowing that there’s someone who would die for you, someone who would  _ literally _ go to hell and back to keep you safe.” She inhaled deeply. “It’s… It’s just nice to see that someone has that.”

She turned to look at him, and he saw no bitterness in her face, only a hint of sadness. “It kind of gives the rest of us something to hope for.”

She walked away quickly, joining Sam in the parking lot, and Dean could almost  _ see _ the walls she had built to keep his little brother out being put back up. Dean frowned as he ambled up to the little group gathered near Baby. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that Chrys saw herself as a part of “the rest of us,” instead of part of them.

She was part of the team. He didn’t know how the hell she had managed it, but she had wormed her way into being part of the team.

Dean didn’t like it that she didn’t know that.

***

Chrys was laughing again, standing behind Sam, listening to Becky’s good-bye speech.

“Look Sam. I'm not gonna lie. We had undeniable chemistry. But like a monkey on the sun, it was too hot to live. It can't go on. Chuck and I, we found each other. My yin to his proud yang. And well, the heart wants what the heart wants. I'm so, so sorry.”

Chuck nodded. “Yeah, Sam. Sorry.” He did not look sorry.  _ Good for you, Chuck. _

Chrys smiled and twined her fingers through Sam’s, patting his arm. “I will do my best to make sure he gets through this.”

Becky looked concerned. “Will you be all right?”

Sam put on a sad face and gave a heavy sigh, which had Chrys trying again to smother her mirth. “Honestly? I don't know. I'll just have to find a way to keep living, I guess.”

Becky smiled. “God bless you.”

Sam nodded and swallowed thickly. Then he turned to Chuck. “Oh, hey, Chuck. If you really want to publish more books, I guess that's okay with us.”

Chuck’s face lit up. “Wow. Really?”

“No, not really. We have guns, and we will find you.”

Chrys’s burst of laughter couldn’t be stopped.

***

Chrys was in the passenger seat while Dean drove, only because Sam had passed out in the back. She was enjoying the silence and the long, dark road, when Dean spoke.

“Chrys, you know you’re part of the team.”

She looked over at him, eyebrows raised in surprised. “What?”

He refused to meet her eyes, just looked straight forward. “You’re part of the team. I mean, I don’t know what’s going on between you and Sam,” he made a face, “and I don’t really want to. But… You’re part of the team.” He met her eyes. “So I don’t want to hear anymore of this ‘rest of us’ shit, got it?”

She looked at him for a long time, emotions washing through her.  _ Dean thinks I’m part of the team? _ Warmth spread through her chest, and her face split into a wide smile. “Aw, Dean, you like me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up. I do not.”

She laughed softly. “Oh, my God, you do.” She scooted across the seat and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “All right, all right, I’m part of the team, you big softy.”

He rolled his eyes again. “Shut up, Summers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	14. Is This Okay?

Chrys woke up first, humming in contentment when she realized she was tangled up with Sam. She buried her face in his bare chest, relishing the warmth there.   
  
When she couldn’t go back to sleep, she gently extracted herself and sat up, stretching and looking around. After the convention (which still made her burst out in giggles regularly), they had decided to head back to Bobby’s to look for the Colt. They were about halfway there, they would be getting to Sioux Falls that evening.   
  
Chrys stood and rummaged through their stuff to pull out one of Sam’s hoodies and a pair of her leggings. After dressing quickly and silently, she put on shoes, tied her hair back, grabbed a room key, and slipped out the door.   
  
She started off at a slow jog, letting her muscles warm up and find their rhythm. As much as she wanted to think about the Colt, and the apocalypse, she found her thoughts being dragged to Sam more often than not.   
  
Since the incident with Gabriel, he’d been more affectionate than ever. He always had a hand on her back, or he was threading through her hair, or pressing his lips to her temple, or her shoulder if she was in front of him. It was lovely, and she soaked it up eagerly, but it was starting to affect her thought processes.   
  
_ He. Does. Not. Love. You. _ She timed the words with her steps, trying to drum them into her own head. Sam didn’t love her, she didn’t think he ever would. He liked her, sure, she felt safe assuming that. And they were good in bed, although she doubted there was anyone on earth who wouldn’t be good with a partner like Sam. But he wasn’t in love with her. They weren’t in a relationship. They were just… Stuck together.   
  
“Stuck together,” she said evenly, still timing the words with her steps. “We’re stuck together.”   
  
She pushed herself to go faster, trying to outrun her thoughts, and the steady ache in her heart.   
  
***   
  
Sam woke up slowly, reaching for Chrys to pull her closer to him. When all he touched was cold blankets, he sat up. He scrubbed a hand down his face and looked around, but she wasn’t in the room. He stood and dressed in a t-shirt and gym shorts quietly, so as not to disturb Dean, and stepped outside to find her.   
  
He did so quickly. She was jogging around the motel, which had become her custom when they were travelling. He frowned a little, realizing that she was closer to running than jogging, and the look on her face made his heart hurt a little.   
  
_ What am I doing? _ He couldn’t really figure out how he felt about her. She drove him crazy, she called him out all the time, she was snarky, and her attitude was often bordering on flat out bitchy.   
  
But she was also remarkably kind for what she’d been through. She could make his heart beat faster with a look, she and Dean were obviously close, and it didn’t hurt that she was gorgeous and dynamite in bed.   
  
_ What am I doing? _ He didn’t want to string her along. He didn’t want her catching feelings for him, especially since he had no idea how he felt about her.   
  
She spotted him and changed course toward him. He walked forward to meet her in the middle, the asphalt warm under his bare feet.   
  
She smiled, and he couldn’t help the way his lips curved up to match it. “Hey,” she asked softly, “Everything all right?”   
  
He nodded. “Yeah, you just weren’t in bed.”   
  
She looked at him strangely. “Sam, I’m always running in the mornings. Did you need something? It couldn’t have been sex, Dean was in the room with us.”   
  
He thought for a moment, then shrugged and decided to go with honesty. “I like waking up next to you.”   
  
Her eyes widened and flashed with emotion before she closed them and sighed. “You’ve got to stop saying stuff like that, Sammy.”   
  
He frowned. “Stuff like what?”   
  
“Um, sweet stuff. Stop being so nice to me, dammit.”   
  
His eyebrows rose. “You… Don’t want me to be nice to you?”   
  
She sighed again. “I just mean… I just mean, you’ve got to stop acting like we’re in a relationship. This is hard enough as it is.”   
  
“What’s hard enough as it is?”   
  
She waved her hand and didn’t meet his eyes. “Being… Whatever we are. Stuck together. Being around you all the time, twenty-four-seven, is difficult enough without you… Getting all relationshipy on me.”   
  
He frowned, confusion and some other emotion making his heart stutter. “I, uh… I guess I don’t mean to get ‘relationshipy,’ or whatever.”   
  
She just looked at him for a long moment, and she couldn’t hide the hurt in her eyes this time. He gave into the urge to close the distance between them, cupping her face with his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said gently, running a thumb slowly across her cheekbone.   
  
Her expression didn’t change. “For what?”   
  
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t mean to upset you, I guess.”   
  
She smiled and tilted her head into his head. “Sam, you can’t apologize every time I get upset. We’d never get anything done.”   
  
He didn’t like that. Whether or not he had feelings for her, the thought of her being upset made him want to wrap her in his arms and assure her that it would be all right. He never wanted Chrys to be upset.   
  
Instead, he gently guided her face up until her lips were pressed to his. He kissed her languidly, relishing the soft press of her body against his. He wrapped an arm around her waist, smiling against her when she wrapped hers around his.   
  
“Hey!” Dean’s voice had them looking up, but not breaking apart. He was clearly still half asleep. “Could you two stop necking in the parking lot and go get breakfast?”   
  
***   
  
“Oh,  _ God, _ Sam,” she whispered, “I want you inside me.”   
  
Chrys’s hot mouth had been at his ear almost the moment Dean had fallen asleep in the backseat. Sam had only been driving for half an hour, but pulling the car over was seeming more and more like a good idea.   
  
“God dammit, Chrys,” he growled softly, trying to adjust himself without driving off the road. “Would you stop it?”   
  
He felt her smile, and his heart beat harder. “Do you want me to stop, Sammy?” she moaned softly, her tongue darting out to run along the shell of his ear. “Or do you want me to do something  _ else _ with my mouth?”   
  
Heat shot down through him, straight to his cock at her words. Her hand slowly moving up his thigh to palm him through his jeans didn’t help either. “Jesus, Chrys,” he panted.   
  
“Shh, Sammy,” she whispered soothingly as she slowly worked to undo his jeans. “Just let me take care of you.”   
  
“Chrys, I-“ his words were cut off when she had his cock free in a flash, and her warm hand was stroking him gently. Language escaped him, so he just gripped the steering wheel hard and tried to make sure he didn’t kill them.   
  
When she shifted and bent her head to press a kiss to the head of his cock, his heart stopped and he bit back a moan. It felt completely natural to place one of his hands on the back of her head, fisting it in her hair helplessly when she hollowed her cheeks and took him into her mouth slowly.   
  
He struggled to keep his breathing even, and to keep them on the road, as she moved up and down his length slowly. Her tongue swirled the tip when she got there, and then she would almost his entire length into her mouth again. Her hand was wrapped around the base of his cock where her mouth couldn’t reach, and he had to restrain himself from thrusting into her.

The absolute inappropriateness of the situation was spurring him on, heightening his awareness of her soft hand and her wet mouth on him. His hand was guiding her slowly up and down, and her submission to the act made some alpha, dominant part of him light up.

That part of him decided enough was enough. And the little gas station coming up looked clean enough to finish what his woman had started.

He gently pulled her head away by her hair, gasping when she came off of him with a  _ pop _ sound. Her lust blown blue eyes took his breath away. Keeping his hand in her hair, he brought her close enough to press his lips to hers, kissing her thoroughly. “Sam,” she whimpered softly, “Watch the road.”

She started pressing gentle, insistent kisses down his jaw, and he let her. “How about I give the orders, beautiful?” he asked raggedly, smiling fiercely when he felt her shudder at his words.

He pulled the car over slowly, parking at the end of the parking lot. He was shoving himself back into his pants when Dean started to wake up.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked blearily.

Chrys’s eyes were wide, but her voice was steady. “Just a quick stop, Dean. Go back to sleep.”

“Just make it quick, “ He grunted, turning back over and falling silent again.

Sam took the opportunity to tangle his hand in Chrys’s hair again and pulled her to him to ravage her mouth. Her breathy little whimpers drove him crazy.

He pulled away and her her dazed eyes. “Don’t move, beautiful,” he rasped softly.

Her eyes widened. “Yes, sir.”

The word, “sir” on her lips damn near killed him. He growled and kissed her again forcefully, relishing the way she moved against him.

He quickly got out and walked around, taking a moment to be grateful that they seemed to be alone. He opened her door and took another moment to study her, her long legs under her tangled skirt, her hair draped over her shoulder, her lovely blue eyes staring up at him.

He pitched his voice low. “Come here, Chrys.”

She unfolded herself and got out of the car slowly, her eyes never leaving his. He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to him, kissing her fiercely again. She whimpered and kissed him back, but made no move otherwise. The alpha male in him was roaring in approval in his chest.

Struggling to control himself, he pressed kisses along her jaw until he was at her ear, breathing heavily. “Is this okay?” If she said no she might  _ actually _ kill him, but he would wrestle himself away from her and take a walk. Or a cold shower. Or jump into an icy lake and live there until he could be with her without jumping her. Above it all, above the confusion and guilt and strange attraction she caused in him, he would  _ never _ hurt Chrys.

She turned her head to meet his eyes, examining him closely. She brought a hand up slowly to brush her fingers along his cheek. Whatever she saw in his face must have satisfied her, because she gave a tiny nod, her lips pulling up into a smirk.

Possessiveness swamped him, and he crowded her against the car, bending his head until only a whisper away from hers. He stayed there for a long moment, watching her breath quicken.  _ “Good,” _ he said softly, running his hand up to rest on her hip. She whimpered softly, and it broke his control.

He kissed her hard for a moment, then bent and swept her over his shoulder. She squeaked and laughed softly, her legs kicking gently. “Sam!”

He reached up and slapped her on the ass. “What did you just call me?”

She shivered. “I meant sir, I’m sorry, sir.”

He grinned. “Good girl.”

He pushed his way into the store, keeping her where she was. He looked at the clerk, eyebrows raised. “Bathroom key?”

The kid behind the counter’s eyes were wide. He reached under the counter and pulled out the key, handing it to Sam.

Sam saluted. “Thanks.” He turned and walked out, walking around the corner to the bathroom.

He locked the door behind him and set Chrys down, holding her close so she slid down his body. When she landed on her feet, her wide eyes met his, and he was  _ very _ amused to see that she was blushing furiously.

He smirked at her. “Embarrassed, beautiful?”

She made a face. “You know I am. That was some ridiculous, macho, alpha male bullshit, Sam.”

He nodded, still smiling. “Yes, it was.” He tugged her against him hard. “And you liked it.”

She fought a smile and smoothed her hands down his chest. “Maybe,” she said softly, looking up at him through her lashes.

He put a finger under her chin and gently tipped her face up to look at him. “Good girl,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss her softly.

She sighed and opened for him, satisfying his need for control. He placed his hands on her hips and lifted her, walking toward the sink and setting her down in front of it. He tangled a hand in her hair, tilting her head back further. “Tell me you want me, beautiful.”

She whimpered and didn’t meet his eyes, sending satisfaction flowing through him. “Yes, sir, I want you,” she said softly.

He nuzzled the column of her neck. “Good girl.” He kissed his way up to her ear. “If this isn’t what you want, at any point, you tell me, Chrys. Understood?”

She turned to meet his eyes, smiling softly. “Yes, sir.”

He grinned. “Good.”

***

“Good.”

His heated grin made Chrys’s head spin. He put his hands on her hips again, and gently spun her around until she was looking at them in the mirror. She dragged in a shuddering breath when he slipped his hand into the waistband of her skirt.

He was laying sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down to her shoulder. “Have I ever told you how beautiful I think you are?”

She whimpered and tilted her head back. “Yes, sir.”

“Did you believe me?” She opened her mouth to answer, but he interrupted. “Tell me the truth, Chrys.”

She whimpered again when he gently, slowly kicked her legs apart. He very lightly ran his fingers down between her folds, never touching her where she wanted him. She bit her lip hard and resisted the urge to thrust against his hand. “No, not really, sir,” she whispered, closing her eyes and feeling herself blush.

“Hmm,” he purred against her neck, his other hand running up her side to cup her breast through her shirt. “Why is that?”

He tweaked her nipple, sending sensation through her entire being. “I don’t know, sir, probably because you’re gorgeous.”

He smiled against her neck. “Is that so?” He teased her with one finger at her entrance, causing her body to tense. “Well,” he said softly into her ear as he sank a finger into her, making her bite her lip to stop the moan, “I’m just going to have to show you how beautiful I think you are.”

The hand pinching her nipple pulled away, and a low whine in the back of her throat signalled her displeasure. Which was quickly replaced with anticipation as that hand moved to pull her skirt up behind her, then placed on her back to ever so slightly tilt her forward. She braced herself on the sink, staying where he’d left her, more turned on than she’d ever been in her life.

She trusted Sam. Even with the orders, even if he did have absolute control, he would never hurt her.

The sound of his zipper brought her out of her thoughts, and the head of his cock pressing against her core had her whimpering and trying to move back onto him.

He stopped her with both hands on her hips, steadying her. “Do you think you’re in control here, beautiful?” he asked roughly, gripping her hard.

She whimpered and shook her head. “No, sir.”

He used one hand to guide the tip of his cock up and down her folds. “Good girl. Who  _ is _ in control here, Chrys?”

She met his eyes in the mirror. “You are, sir.”

He smirked, and it damn near killed her. “Good girl.”

He slammed into her, then reached forward to place a hand over her mouth and pull her up so she was flush against him. “You know I love your screams, beautiful,” he muttered into her, thrusting in and out of her so hard she was having trouble following his words, “but you’re going to have to try to be quiet, okay?”

She didn’t think she could speak, so she just nodded. He smiled. “Good. Now, Chrys,” he purred, pitching his voice lower, “I want you to watch me make you come. Understood?”

She nodded again.

“Good.”

The hand not holding her mouth slid down to touch her again, and she convulsed when he brushed over her clit. He used his arm to keep her in place, his fingers dancing firm circles onto her clit. Pressure was building up inside her at an alarming rate.

“Chrys, I told you to look at me,” he said roughly.

Her eyes flicked up to the mirror, meeting his hot gaze in the glass. He flicked his own eyes down, and hers followed.

The sight of his strong, muscled arm reaching between her legs under her skirt was the most arousing thing Chrys had ever seen. She whimpered into the hand covering her mouth. She watched as he slowly bent to kiss her neck again, then watched his white teeth sink into her flesh just enough to hurt a little.

She could no longer help the way her hips were moving back to meet his thrusts, or the way her fingers clenched around the porcelain of the sink. She was making constant, soft noises in the back of her throat, trying hard not to cry out, and she kept her gaze on the mirror where Sam’s hand disappeared into her skirt.

“Chrys,” he said roughly. She could tell by his voice that he was close. She flicked her eyes back up to meet his in the mirror. “Look at me when you come.”

She nodded, and even if she’d wanted to she couldn’t drag her eyes away from his beautiful hazel ones. When her orgasm ripped through her, in a moment of clarity, she saw how lovely Sam really thought she was, she saw what she looked like to him.

Then he was coming hard, slamming into her hard enough that she’d be sore the next day.

She stood up straight so he could drop his head onto her shoulder, his arms slowly coming around to hug her to his chest. He lifted his head and pressed a gentle kiss against her temple. “Was that all right, beautiful?”

She nodded wordlessly, emotions storming through her.

***

Chris was curled against him, asleep, fifteen minutes after they got back into the car.

Sam just smiled and kept his arm around her, thinking about the trust she’d placed in him. Thinking about how much faith she had to have in him to consent to what they’d done, the way he’d dominated their sex in the bathroom. The fact that it had been in a gas station bathroom made him feel a little guilty, but the little hitch in her walk and the perpetual tilt of her lips into a smile told him that she was just fine with it.

It was starting to look like Chrys may actually  _ be _ perfect.

Sam hugged her tighter against him and hit the accelerator harder. He wanted to be in a bed with her, sooner rather than later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I never know whether to apologize or say, "You're welcome," for the chapters that are just fluff and smut.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	15. I Think We'll Pass, Thanks

“I don’t know if I like this plan,” Sam murmured against her neck, his hand moving slowly up the short skirt of the dress she was wearing. 

Chrys smiled and tilted her head back. “You don’t seem to have a problem with the clothes,” she teased. 

“You could let me take them off of you, instead.”

She pushed at his shoulders and he took a step back. “Stop it, Sam. I’m going. It’s our best shot.”

He frowned. “Why can’t Jo do it?”

Chrys rolled her eyes. “Because Jo and Ellen are still at least a day out, and we know where the Colt is  _ now. _ Who knows if Crowley will move it?”

He stepped forward and tugged her close. “I don’t like this.”

She smiled up at him. “You don’t have to.”

***

Chrys pressed the button on the intercom, steeling herself. “Hello?”

“Hello?”

“My car broke down. I… I need some help.”   
  
A pause, then, “I'll be down in a minute.”

She waited anxiously for the gate to open. When it did, two suited men approached her.”Evening, pretty lady. Get yourself on in here.”

She smiled nervously. “I just need to make a call.” She tried to look scared.  _ Arrogant little pus bag, I can’t wait to exorcise you. _

One of them smirked. “You don't need to call anyone, baby.”

The other smiled, too. “We're the only help you're ever gonna need.”   
  
Chrys tried very hard to look nervous, taking a step back. “You know what? I think I should wait by my car.”

One of them grabbed her arm, then his face slackened in shock. “My lady-”

She dropped the act and smirked. “What’s up, peasant?”   


She twisted her arm away from him and elbowed him hard in the face. He dropped, and she started muttering the exorcism as she faced the second man.

Before she could finish, he flashed with light, and Sam was behind him with Ruby’s knife. He knelt and stabbed the first man, too. Chrys frowned, but didn’t mention his kill happy ways.

He stood and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her to him and kissing her hard. She responded, whining a little when he pulled away. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Dean approached. “You good, Summers?” She nodded, and he nodded back. “All right, let’s do this.”

***

“So. The Hardy Boys finally found me. Took you long enough.”

Sam watched the demon Crowley approach them, then stopping when he saw that the corner of the rug was flipped up. He knelt ad pulled it up to reveal a devil's trap. He looked up. “Do you have any idea how much this rug cost?” He looked between the three of them, and Sam’s blood ran cold when the demon’s eyes landed on Chrys.

Crowley smirked. “Lucifer’s lady. My, aren’t I blessed?”

She glared. “Eat me.”

He chuckled. “And polite, too. The whole package.”

Two men grabbed Sam and Dean from behind. He struggled and watched a third man approach Chrys. 

She turned and levelled him with a stare. “I will rip your teeth out your ass if you  _ even _ try it. Understood?” She turned back to look at Crowley. “I’ll behave if he does.”

Crowley smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He raised the gun and shot the man behind Chrys in the forehead, then did the same to the men holding Sam and Dean.

As soon as Sam was free, he moved to stand in front of Chrys. And, as he should have expected, she rolled her eyes and pushed her way in front of him with a muttered insult.   


“So,” she said calmly, motioning Dean over to them with a wave. “You have the Colt.”

Crowley waved the gun. “Do you know how deep I could have buried this? There's no reason you or anyone should know this even exists, except that I told you.”

Sam frowned.  _ “You _ told us.”

Crowley shrugged. “Rumors, innuendo, sent out on the grapevine.”   
  
Chrys cocked her head to the side. “Why tell us anything?”   


Crowley aimed the gun at Dean, but before he could speak, Chrys snarled and shoved the older hunter behind her. “Hey, buddy,” she snapped, “No pointing the gun at them. Am I clear?”

Amusement danced in Crowley’s eyes. “All right, all right.” He put the gun down on the table. “I want you to take this thing to Lucifer and empty it into his head.”

***

They had the Colt. They were back at Bobby’s, with Ellen, Jo, and Cass. Cass was drinking Ellen under the table, Dean was hitting on Jo, and Sam was mad at Chrys.

He’d been silent on the way home, and all of the gentle, constant affection had stopped completely. Not that she  _ needed _ it, but… 

So she ignored him to sit next to Cass at the table. “I think I’m starting to feel something.”

Chrys grinned and put a hand on the angel’s arm. “That’s the slow descent into humanity burning through you, Castiel.”

He turned to her with a frown. “It’s… Warm.”

She smiled. “Yes, yes it is.”

A big hand landed on her shoulder. She looked up at Sam’s stormy face. “What do you want?” She snapped, shrugging him off.

Cass turned to look at Sam, then reached up and touched two fingers to his forehead. “He’s angry that you put yourself in danger.”

Chrys looked at Cass, surprised. “You read minds?”

He nodded.

She grinned. “Cool.”

Sam frowned. “Chrys, can I talk to you?”

She looked at his face evenly.  _ God, he’s beautiful. _ She nodded and stood. “Lead the way, Winchester.”

They walked into the hallway. She didn’t even have time to open her mouth before he grabbed her and pushed her roughly against the wall. He took her face into his hands and kissed her hard, taking her breath away. She put her hands on his hips and squeezed, gasping into his mouth.

He pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers. “God dammit, Chrys.”

She closed her eyes and reveled in his warmth against her. “Was Castiel right? You’re mad about Crowley?”

He chuckled darkly, and it sent awareness through her. “Chrys, you just… Scared me.”

She leaned back and looked up at him. His big hands were still cupping her face, and coupled with the way he was looking at her, it was making her heart flutter. It was making her feel… Cherished. 

She closed her eyes, against the tears that were threatening to come and against the hope in her chest. “Careful, Sammy,” she said softly, unsurprised that her voice was rough with emotion, “You’re going to make me think you like me.”

His lips pressed against her forehead broke her heart a little. “Maybe I do.”

He heart stopped, and she took a second to process her feelings. She tilted her head up and smiled at him. “Gonna give a girl expectations with talk like that, Sam.”

He kissed her lightly. He pulled away and looked at her, but before he could speak, Bobby’s voice rang out.

“Everybody get in here! It's time for the lineup. Usual suspects in the corner.”   
  
“Oh come on, Bobby,” Ellen griped, “Nobody wants their picture taken.”   
  
“Hear, hear,” Sam said softly in Chrys’s ear before taking her hand and leading her into the living room. She laughed and followed, listening to Bobby snap, “Shut up. You're drinking my beer.”

Everyone stood, and Chrys felt warmth down to her toes when Sam pulled her next to him and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. 

Cass stood next to them, with Dean, Ellen, and Jo on the other side.

Bobby fiddles with the camera, then rolled back to join them. “Anyway, I'm gonna need something to remember your sorry asses by.”

Ellen snorted. “Always good to have an optimist around.” Chrys smiled.

Castiel did not. “Bobby's right. Tomorrow we hunt the devil. This is our last night on earth.”   
  
Her smile faded as the camera flashed.

***

That night, Sam watched Chrys watch him as they got their breath back. The moonlight was draped across her hip, and she was lovely.

She was smirking. “Like what you see?”

He smiled and brushed her hair from her face. “I do, actually.” He chuckled when she blushed and kissed her, savoring the taste of her.

She sobered. “Sam, this is a stupid plan.”

He frowned. “It’s the only one we’ve got.”

She shook her head. “Luci is gonna snap our necks like chicken bones.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “‘Luci?’”

She shrugged. “Shut up. Don’t change the subject.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, shaking it out at the ends. “Sam, you guys can’t understand. I… I just don’t think we’re gonna win.”

He examined her lovely blue eyes, looking for answers. “Chrys, I just can’t say yes. And that's not gonna happen.”

Sadness flashed through her eyes, and she reached up and placed a hand on his face. “I hope you’re right, Sammy.”

***

“There you are.”

Chrys whirled with everyone else, snarling when her eyes hit Meg. 

This wasn’t going well. Cass was gone, there was no cell signal, and there were apparently reapers everywhere. Nerves were turning her stomach into hard knots.   
  
At least Sam was next to her. “Meg,” he snapped.   
  
The demon smirked. “Shouldn't have come here, boys.”   
  
Dean scoffed. “Hell, I could say the same thing for you.” He aimed the Colt at her.

She didn’t even look scared. “Didn't come here alone, Dean-o.”

Something splashed in the puddle next to Meg’s feet. Chrys’s blood ran cold at the deep growling from the spot. She looked over at Dean, who was putting on a brave face, but was obviously terrified. “Hellhounds,” he said softly.   
  
Meg smiled. “Yeah, Dean. Your favorite. Come on, boys. My father wants to see you.” She looked at Chrys.  _ “Especially _ you, my lady.”   
  
“I think we'll pass, thanks,” Sam said evenly.   
  
Meg shrugged. “Your call. You can make this easy or you can make it really, really hard.”   
  
Dean smiled. “When have you known us to ever make anything easy?”

Chrys fired, and blood spurted from seemingly thin air. “Run!”

They turned and ran. Chrys took a second to be grateful for her long legs.

A hellhound tackled Dean. Chrys shoved Jo when she tried to stop. “Go!” She shouted, running back toward Dean.

“Chrys! Stay back!”

She ignored him and strode forward confidently, firing into the air above him. A canine whine shot through the air.

Suddenly, pain blossomed in her side, and a wet tearing sound made its way into her consciousness. Chrys screamed as she went down, but still she still fired into the invisible thing.

_ “No!” _ Sam’s shout would have torn her up if she hadn’t already been torn up.

Gunshots rang through the air, and strong arms scooped her up. She gasped in pain and buried her face in Dean’s chest as he ran. She pressed her hands to her stomach, whimpering when she felt blood running through her fingers. Pain was making her vision hazy.

She heard a bell ding, but wasn’t sure where they were. She cried out when Dean set her down. “Fuck!”

Suddenly, Sam was there. “Hey, beautiful, stay with me, okay?”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “This is bad, Sammy,” she whispered, gasping, trying to breathe around the agony in her stomach.

He nodded, and she noticed the tears in his eyes. “I know, sweetheart, it’ll be all right, okay?”

She gripped the back of his neck and moaned as another shot of pain wracked through her. She pulled him close and kissed him. “Lie to me some more, Sammy.”   
  
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she closed her eyes to deal with the unending pain she was in.  _ God, this hurts. _

She felt big, hesitant hands at her side, and her eyes snapped open to glare at Dean, who had a bandage in his hand. “Stop it, Dean,” she snapped. “I’m not making it out of this one.”

He glared at her. “Shut up, Chrys. You’re going to be fine.”

She put her hand that had been on Sam on Dean’s cheek, gazing into his green eyes. They were no hazel, not lovely like Sam’s, but they were pretty damn pretty. “No, I’m not, Dean. I’m quite literally holding my intestines-” She was interrupted by a cough, which sent more pain ricocheting through her, and she tasted blood. “Ow,” she said mildly.

Ellen and Jo had joined them, looking worriedly down at Chrys. Chrys had tears in her eyes, and she looked back at Sam, placing a hand on his face. “Hey, listen to me, okay?” She looked into his eyes to make sure he was paying attention. “I was full of shit before. You’re going to win, Sam.” She looked over at Dean. “You both are. You can  _ beat _ him. Okay?”

Sam nodded. “Okay, just don’t talk, all right?”   


She coughed and blood ran down her chin. “Fuck you, Sam, these are my dying words, so shut up.” She tried to take a deep breath, and settled for a moderate one. “Look, you guys can do this.” She smiled sadly, because her vision was getting hazy. “You’re the Winchesters, you can beat anything.”

Before he could respond, the four standing hunters were flung across the room and pinned to the wall. “Chrys!” Sam cried out, struggling to get back to her.

She didn’t even have it in her to have any fear when she saw Lucifer standing in front of her. He knelt, and she met his gaze. “Hi, Luci,” she said evenly.

He tsked. “You should be more careful, Chrysanthemum.” He looked over at Sam and winked. “I believe this is mine. I’ll be taking her now.” He scooped her into his arms, surprisingly tender, and held her against his cold chest. 

The world swirled away from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Here's my notes:  
> I own only Chrys Summers, the original character. I don't own Supernatural or the characters. (heartbroken)  
> Reviews, comments, and kudos give me the warm fuzzies and keep me going.  
> If there are any mistakes in continuity, canon, or geography, blame me.  
> **Ha. Cliffhanger.


	16. We'll See

When the world settled around her again, Chrys wanted to look around, but the pain in her abdomen was fading a little, and her thoughts were fuzzy and sluggish.  _ I’m dying, _ she thought dispassionately. It didn’t scare her a bit, her only worry was that Sam had looked so upset the last time she’d seen him. If he were here, she could assure him, tell him she loved him, and that it would be okay.

“Sam…” she slurred softly, her face buried in the cold chest that was holding her.

The arms around her tensed, but didn’t hurt her. She was, in fact, as comfortable as someone who’d basically just been disemboweled could be.

They were moving. She was placed on something soft, probably a bed, but the movement caused her muscles to tense. She cried out, pain slamming into her like a freight train.

_ God dammit, can’t I just die already? _

“Hush, Chrysanthemum,” he said softly. “I’ll take care of you.”

Cold hands gently moved her own hands away from her stomach, and she whimpered.

“Shh,” he hushed softly. He placed his hands on her middle, and warm energy filled her.

Her thoughts became clearer, and she could actually  _ hear _ her heartbeat get faster again. The pain in her stomach was gone completely.

She opened her eyes to Lucifer standing over her, and again, she felt no fear. Chrys had never thought that Lucifer was going to  _ kill _ her… Just hurt her.

She sat up slowly, backing up until her back was against the headboard. He straightened, never breaking eye contact with her. “Thank you,” she said softly.

He said nothing, just turned and went into an adjoining room. She looked around while he was gone, and realized that they were in the bedroom she’d been in when she was shot.

A faucet ran briefly, then he returned with a glass of water. He walked over and sat on the bed next to her, handing the glass to her. “Drink.”

She accepted it silently, and when he stared at her, she took a small sip. “Thank you,” she said again.

He nodded. “How are you feeling?”

She blinked. “Do you care?”

Lucifer’s eyebrows rose. “Why would I ask if I didn’t care?”

“To make me think you care.”

He chuckled. “Just answer the question, Chrysanthemum.”

She sighed. “I feel fine, Luci. Just tired.”

He reached his hand up, and she fought not to flinch when he gently ran a thumb under her eye. “You  _ look _ tired.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, gee, sure know how to make a girl feel pretty. I’m tired because we’re working nonstop to try to stop  _ you.” _

He sighed. “Chrysanthemum, I will not be stopped. I have to do this. If I don’t take the fight to Michael, he will bring it to me.”

She glared at him. “So, that’s your angle? You don’t want to do this? You want to, what, coexist? You running hell and earth, Michael and the other flyboys staying up in heaven?”

He shrugged. “For a start.”

She gave a humorless chuckle. “Well, no offense, Luci, but over my dead fucking body.”

He examined her closely. “I would never let you die, Chrys.”

She stared. She knew that. Lucifer had always been protecting her, from the time she was a child, he’d protected her. He’d also hurt her in unimaginable ways, but he’d never let her just die.

“Why?” she whispered, afraid of the answer.

He cupped her face in his cold hand, and she fought the urge to lean into it. Her traitorous body was reacting to him in ways she was really only comfortable with when she was with Sam.

“Because you’re mine, Chrysanthemum, love. I want you with me, ruling hell by my side.” He gazed into her eyes, and some dark part of her yearned for him. “Don’t you want that, dear?”

And if Chrys really thought about it, that dark part of her  _ did. _ The chance to be the one dealing out the pain, instead of receiving it? The ability to be completely in control of her life, even if it meant torturing souls and causing pain.  _ Yes. _

But Sam’s face came to mind, Sam’s kind, handsome face. And Dean, when he tossed his head back and laughed for real. And Bobby, fussing over the boys.

So instead, though it took all of her will, she shook her head. “No,” she said softly, relieved to hear the strength in her voice. “No, I don’t. I don’t want to be with you.”

Her breathing quickened when his thumb dropped to run over her bottom lip. “We’ll see,” he said softly, before leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers.

That dark part of Chrys, that she’d tried so hard to smother, lit up and took control. Before she could stop, her hands were fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer. Whimpery sounds came from the back of her throat, and she struggled to keep her hips from rolling against him.

She forced herself to pull away, pushing at his shoulders gently as she turned her face. “God dammit, Lucifer,” she said softly. “Stop it.” Self-loathing so strong it made her wince rose up in her.

He leaned back and watched her with dark eyes. “All right, Chrysanthemum.” He stood and held his hand out to her. “We have work to do, anyway.”

***

The hardware store exploded behind them. Sam didn’t flinch, but he saw Dean, Ellen, and Jo do it. Sam didn’t have time to look behind them.

He had to find Chrys, and Chrys was in front of them.

Panic was gnawing at him like a rabid animal in his stomach. The sight of Chrys, bloodied and dying, in the devil’s arms had done something to Sam. He was desperate to get her back, to touch her, to make sure she was all right. He chose not to examine the feeling too closely, just gave in to it.

They ran through the bushes, keeping low to the ground. When they got to a clearing, they saw a crowd of men standing, their attention pointed elsewhere.

“Guess we know what happened to some of the townspeople,” Dean muttered, surveying the scene in front of them.

The four of them moved forward, trying to be silent as they moved through the crowd.

Lucifer was at the center of the silent men's gazes, filling a hole with a shovel. Chrys was standing near him, watching and chewing on her lip.

The relief that flooded Sam was short-lived. She was alive, and there was no blood in sight. But he had gotten to know her pretty well, and the look on her face said she was terrified, barely holding it together.  _ What the hell is going on? _

She was in different clothes than she had been. She was wearing a long white dress, and her hair was loose around her. It's darkness, combined with her pale skin and the white dress, made her ethereal. She looked absolutely lovely.

Sam’s blood ran cold when he realized that she actually looked  _ bridal. _

It was enough to spur him on. “Hey!” He shouted, aiming the shotgun in his hands at Lucifer.

The look of relief on Chrys’s face made his heart beat faster. “Sam!”

Lucifer dropped the shovel and turned. He motioned to Chrys with one hand while smiling at Sam. “Oh, Sam, you don't need that gun here. You know I'd never hurt you. Not really.” Chrys approached, and Lucifer slipped his arm around her waist while staring at Sam.

Seeing his hands on Chrys made Sam see red, and he struggled to control his temper.

“Yeah?” Dean said from next to Lucifer. “Well, I’d hurt you.”

Dean raised the gun and aimed it point-blank at the devil’s forehead.

“Chrys, move!” Sam shouted, his heart in his throat.

She ducked as the gunshot rang out. “Chrys, come here,” Sam said urgently, needing to touch her. He held a hand out to her.

She glanced down at the prone body on the ground, then quickly started toward him. Dean was staring at Lucifer when he started to stir.

“Chrysanthemum, dear, stay here,” Lucifer groaned as he got up slowly.

Chrys stopped, her eyes begging Sam to forgive her before she turned and walked back toward the angel.

Sam was horrified as Lucifer stood and slung an arm around Chrys’s shoulder to prop himself up. He glared at Dean. “Where did you get that?”

He put a hand up in the air and Dean flew back into a tree. “Dean!” Chrys cried, shrugging Lucifer off to run to the injured hunter. She knelt next to him, checking his pulse.

Sam looked back to Lucifer, who was watching Chrys with a bemused look on his face. Lucifer slowly turned back to Sam and smiled. “Don't feel too bad, Sam. There's only five things in all of creation that that gun can't kill, and I just happen to be one of them. But if you give me a minute, I'm almost done.”

He picked the shovel up and started moving dirt again. Sam ran over to Dean, hearing Ellen and Jo do the same behind him.

When he got there, he knelt on the other side of Dean and took Chrys’s face into his hands. She looked up at him, tears gathering in her eyes. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

She nodded. “I’m fine, Sam,” she whispered. “Bigger fish, handsome.”

When he looked over, Lucifer was leaning against the shovel, watching the exchange with cold eyes. He smiled when Sam’s gaze landed on him. “You know, I don't suppose you'd just say yes here and now? End this whole tiresome discussion? That's crazy, right?”

“It’s never gonna happen!” Sam snapped, pulling Chrys around to push her behind him. To his surprise, she went willingly. He felt her press her face into his back, seeking comfort, and somehow giving it, too. Ellen and Jo stepped to either side of him, protecting Chrys and Dean.

Lucifer shrugged and went back to filling the hole. “Oh, I don't know, Sam. I think it will. I think it'll happen soon. Within six months. I think it'll happen in Detroit.” He turned and winked. “And I think Chrysanthemum will be there, too, ready and waiting.”

Sam saw red again. “You listen to me, you son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill you myself, you understand me? I'm going to rip your heart out!”

Chrys’s hand ran up and down his back. “Sam, calm down, he  _ wants _ you to be angry.”

Lucifer hadn’t heard her, and was smirking. “That's good, Sam. You keep fanning that fire in your belly. All that pent-up rage. I'm gonna need it.”

Sam took a deep breath and focused on Chrys’s hand moving up and down the planes of his back. He looked at the group of men standing around them mindlessly. “What did you do? What did you do to this town?”

Lucifer smiled as he continued. “Oh, I was very generous with this town. One demon for every able-bodied man.”

“And the rest of them?” Chrys tensed behind him, and Sam could feel her trembling. He shifted to make sure she was completely blocked from Lucifer’s view.

Lucifer looked down at the hole he was filling in. “In there. I know, it's awful, but these horsemen are so demanding. So it was women and children first.” He looked over at them. “I know what you must think of me, Sam. I know Chrysanthemum despises me, for now. But I have to do this. I have to. You of all people should understand.

Sam frowned. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Chrys’s hands tightened on the back of his shirt, but she stayed silent.   
  
Lucifer dropped the shovel and turned to him. “I was a son. A brother, like you, a younger brother, and I had an older brother who I loved. Idolized, in fact. And one day I went to him and I begged him to stand with me, and Michael… Michael turned on me. Called me a freak. A monster. And then he beat me down. All because I was different, because I had a mind of my own. Tell me something, Sam. Any of this sound familiar?”

Lucifer shook his head and turned to look at the hole again. “Anyway. You'll have to excuse me. Midnight is calling and I have a ritual to finish. Don't go anywhere. Not that you could if you would.”

Chrys tugged on Sam’s shirt and he turned. She led him back to Dean, whose head was cradled in Jo’s lap. His brother was stirring, and Sam’s heart flooded with relief for the second time that night.

And for the second time that night, it was short-lived. Lucifer started speaking, and the hairs on on the back of Sam’s neck rose. “Now repeat after me. We offer up our lives, blood, souls.”

The people around them spoke, deadpanning. “We offer up our lives, blood, souls.”

“To complete this tribute.”

“To complete this tribute.”

Sam was horrified, and he put his arm out to keep Chrys behind him when Lucifer looked back at them.

“What? They’re just demons,” the devil said casually.

He turned back to look at the hole. Sam looked around and realized that Ellen and Jo weren't’ nearby anymore. When he blinked again, Castiel was standing there, holding a finger to his lips. Sam wrapped his arm around Chrys and held her close as Castiel transported them away.

***

That night, Chrys was sitting on the hood of one of the cars at Singer’s Salvage, watching the stars. She had Sam’s coat around her shoulders, and she was smoking.

She heard Dean’s boots crunch in the gravel, but she didn’t turn around. “Hi, Dean,” she said softly.

The car dipped, and he sat next to her on the hood. “How ya holdin’ up, Summers? And you should quit smoking.”

She shrugged. “Been better, been worse. And fuck you.” She looked over at him. “How’s your head?”

He shrugged back. “Been better, been worse.”

She smiled and faced forward, taking a deep drag and soaking up the silence. She was waiting for him to get bored and leave, which was kind of her plan for not talking to anyone. It had worked with Sam, who had given up fairly quickly.

Dean, however, was a much different creature than Sam. He just sat silently with her, waiting her out.

_ Fucking Dean. _

“You feel like leaving me alone anytime soon?” She snapped, tossing her cigarette butt away and pulling another out.

He leaned back on his hands. “Nope.”

She turned to glare at him. “What do you want, Dean?”

“Well,” he said calmly, still not looking at her, “I figure that something’s wrong. You’re not talking to Sammy, and while I understand, because he can be annoying as fuck, you usually talk to him. And since Sam won’t just follow you around until you speak, it’s up to me.”

“Ugh.”

He chuckled, but said nothing.

“You’re the worst.”

More silence.

“God dammit, Dean, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Tough, Summers, because we’re not going to leave this car until you tell me what’s going on.”

_ Fucking Dean. _ On the surface, Sam was the open, emotional one. He was more willing to talk about his feelings, to the unobservant person, anyway. But Sam could talk someone in circles until they realized that they had told him everything, but he hadn’t told them a damn thing.

Dean, on the other hand, didn’t like to talk. He much preferred showing someone how much he cared. He checked on people, made sure they ate, mediated arguments. He even still harassed Chrys about smoking, even though Sam had given up that fight long ago.

_ Fucking Dean. _

“Nothing is wrong.”

“Bullshit,” he said mildly.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Tough.”

She groaned, tilting her head back. “Dean, come on-”

“Just talk to me, Chrys,” he said softly, seriously.

She sighed. “Lucifer got to me.” When he didn’t say anything, she felt compelled to continue. “He, uh, he wants me to ‘rule hell next to him.’”

Dean was still silent.  _ Fucking Dean. _ “I just, uh… I was tempted.” She winced. “A little, I mean, I just get the draw, my life has never been in my control, and then I would be in control, and I know it would be awful, I mean, I’d be queen of hell, that can’t be good, I just-”

“I tortured souls in hell for a decade,” Dean said calmly.

Chrys blinked, shock resonating through her. “What?”

He nodded, but kept his gaze forward. “When they dragged me to hell. I was tortured for thirty years. They offered me a chance to get off the rack if I started putting souls on.” There was a beat of silence, and she let him have it. It wasn’t often that Dean Winchester opened up.

“The opportunity to inflict pain, instead of getting it inflicted on me… It felt good.”

He finally met her eyes. “But it’s a dark road, Chrys. It’s a bad place to be. I get the temptation, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not worth it.”

She nodded and took a drag. “I know. I told him to stuff it. I just… The temptation probably makes me a shit person.”

He shook his head. “Nah, saying no makes you a decent person.”

And somehow, it was exactly what Chrys needed to hear.

***

That night, Sam waited for Chrys to come to bed. When she finally did, it was well past midnight. She smelled like smoke and whatever it was clean woman. It was a scent unique to her, and it comforted him.

She seemed surprised to see him awake when she got to their room. “Hi,” he said softly, standing. For some reason, he was nervous, and he shoved his hands into his pockets instead of running them through his hair, like he wanted to do.

“Hi,” she whispered, smiling up at him.

There was a moment of silence, then they were at each other’s mouths. She tasted like cigarettes and Chrys, and it drove him crazy.

His arms were around her waist, and hers were around his neck, and she seemed to fit against him perfectly.  _ Chrys. _

He pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers. “Are you all right? Really?”

She nodded a little, burrowing closer to him. “Yes, I’m fine, Sam. I was just… Freaked out.”

He kissed her gently. “Scared me again,” he murmured softly against her.

Her sigh filled some part of his soul up. “I know.”

He leaned back and examined her lovely face, her big blue eyes staring up at him. “He didn’t… Hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No, he saved me, then he messed with my head, then he kissed me.” She frowned. “Then he dressed me up like a goddamn bride and took me to kill a bunch of people.”

He watched as she fought her emotions back, and he was a little glad when she couldn’t. Keeping shit like this in wasn’t healthy.

Tears started forming in her eyes. “Oh, God, Sammy, it was… Awful.” She started to take a step back. “I don’t want to-”

He stopped her with a gentle hand on the back of her head. He pulled her close and pressed her face into his chest, his chin resting on top of her head. “Shh, Chrys, it’s all right.”

She froze for a moment, then wrapped her arms around his waist and whimpered. He gently led her to the bed, then pulled her down next to him on top of the blankets. He held her as she cried, tears pricking the backs of his own eyes at her pain.

Chrys cried in his arms for a long time, falling asleep sometime just after the sky started to lighten. Sam slowly pulled his phone out of his pocket, shot Dean a text explaining they wouldn’t be at breakfast, then tossed the phone onto the nightstand. He slowly got up, undressed, then pulled as much of Chrys’s clothing off as he could without waking her. Once that was done, he managed to get them both in bed with the blankets covering them.

He pulled her close, her face pressed to his chest again, and slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	17. The More Friendly Faces

Sam woke up slowly, with late morning sunlight spilling through the curtains and Chrys next to him, her head resting on his chest. A sort of peace settled over him, and he curled his arm around to hold her.

She hummed softly and lifted her head to look at him. “Hey, you.”

He smiled. “Hey, yourself.” He hauled her up to rest on his chest, her face level with his, so he could card his fingers through her hair and pull her close to kiss her.

She kissed back eagerly, one hand on the side of his face. He moved the hand not in her hair down to her waist, smiling against her mouth when she shuddered.

Before he could take it any further, a shrill cell phone rang. Chrys stiffened, and before he could process that they both kept their phones on vibrate, she was across the room, kneeling in front of her bag.

He took a moment to appreciate how she looked walking around naked before he noticed how tense she was when she answered. “This is Chrys.”

He stood and approached her, crouching behind her and placing a hesitant hand on her back in comfort. He didn’t even get a smile. Her face was pinched, and she hand a hand on her forehead. “How long, do you think?”

While she listened to the voice on the other end, Sam examined her closely. She was very tense, her eyes were closed, and her free hand was now playing with the ends of her hair nervously. Not to mention he’d never seen that cell phone in his life.

“Okay,” she said softly, emotions making her voice quiver. “I’ll do my best.”

The voice continued, and Chrys took in a shaky breath. Unable to sit there doing nothing, Sam gently guided her to a standing position in front of him, then wrapped his arms around her. She lay her cheek against his chest and leaned into him. “Okay, I’ll try.”

She flipped the phone shut and buried her face in his chest, taking slow, deep breaths. He let her calm down before she looked up at him, trepidation on her face.

“I need a favor, Sammy.”

***

Chrys was in the backseat, playing with her hair, her knee bouncing, and overall on edge.

_ Fuck. _

The guys had agreed to go with her to Green Lake, even though it was a six and a half hour drive. There had been very little argument, which served to put her even more on edge. They must have been able to see how upset she was, which simultaneously soothed her and pissed her off.

_ Should have stayed in bed with Sam. _

Even as she thought it, she knew it hadn’t really been an option. She always picked up when they called, and she always went when they called. But the thought of being in bed with her lover was very, very tempting.

_ Fuck. _

***

They pulled up to the motel that Chrys had picked out. It was a little nicer than the places they normally stayed, so she paid for the room herself. The boys hadn’t wanted to come here, she didn’t want to make them fork over more than they were used to.

They walked into the room, and Dean grinned. “Nice digs.”

She gave him a tight smile and tossed her stuff on the couch. “All right, I’m headed out. I should only be a couple of hours, so… Do whatever you guys usually do to entertain yourselves.”

Sam frowned. “You don’t want us to come?”

She smiled again. “Nope. I got this, Sammy. Just chill out here.”

She turned and rifled through her bag, pulling out her ID and her phone. She turned around to both brothers staring at her. She blinked. “What?”

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “We’re coming with you.”

She frowned. “You’re really not.”

Sam crossed his arms. “Why not?”

“Because it’s personal, Sam, and you don’t need to know.”

Now Dean was frowning at her, too. “Chrys, if something is wrong-”

She rolled her eyes. “Quit with the hero complex, guys. Nothing is wrong. I just have something I have to do. It’lll probably only take a couple of hours, and at the most we’ll be here until tomorrow afternoon. We can continue the hunt then.”

“Chrys,” Sam began, “This isn’t about the hunt. It’s about-”

They were interrupted by the loud ringing of her second cell phone. She turned away and flipped it open without meeting either of the Winchesters’ eyes. “This is Chrys.”

“Ms. Summers, are you on your way? She’s starting to slip.”

The tension headache that had been threatening bloomed in her forehead. She pressed her hand to the spot hard and shut her eyes. “Yes, I’ll be there soon.”

The gratitude in the woman’s voice was palpable. “We’ll see you then, Ms. Summers.”

Chrys flipped the phone shut and sighed. She turned back to the brothers. “All right, I’m leaving. You’re staying here. No arguments.”

She grabbed Sam’s coat and walked out the door without another word.

***

Sam watched the door close behind Chrys with a frown, suspicion and worry clouding his heart. He looked over at Dean. “Few minutes head start?”

Dean nodded. “She’s a smart lady, give her at least five.”

They waited, then left the motel room to find out where Chrys was.

Unfortunately, they found her leaning against the Impala, smoking a cigarette with an eyebrow cocked. “Winchesters.”

Dean didn’t bat an eye. “Chrys, weren’t you leaving? We were just going to-”

She rolled her eyes and tossed her cigarette into the parking lot. “Mhm, y’all are smooth like gravel.” She levelled a finger at Sam. “Stay here. This has nothing to do with you.”

Irritated, he approached her until they were inches apart. “Chrys, what is going on that’s so bad that you don’t want me to know about it?”

Something flashed in her eyes. “You don’t get to know, Sam, sorry, not sorry.”

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, resisting the urge to drop an order. “Chrys, please just talk to me. Whatever it is, maybe I can help.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but Dean interrupted her. “Summers, we’re just gonna follow you anyway. May as well lead the way.”

She frowned, staring between them for a long time. Then she sighed, her shoulders drooping in a way that had Sam stepping forward and pulling her into him before he knew what he was doing.

She went willingly, then looked up at him. “All right, you guys asked for it.” She looked between the brothers again. “Let’s see how you boys deal with real baggage.”

***

The Green Lake Psychiatric Hospital was the same as every other mental ward Sam had ever seen. Except this one, of course, was making his woman vibrate with nervous energy next to him.

As they walked in, Chrys put an easy, but very fake, smile on her face. “Hi, Nancy.”

The receptionist looked up and smiled. “Chrys! How are you?”

“Feeling guilty, how are you?”

The other woman tsked. “Chrys, stop it.”

Chrys just smiled and signed the visitor list, putting Sam and Dean’s name, too. Sam noticed she used their real names. The need to know what was happening was driving him  _ crazy. _

Nancy smiled at Sam. “Family friends?”

He nodded. “Yeah, just here for Chrys.”

“They’re coming back with me, is that okay, Nancy?”

The receptionist nodded. “Yep! The more friendly faces she sees, the better.”

Sam waited for Chrys to hand out the visitor's badges, then followed her as she walked through big automated door, which Nancy had to hit a switch to open. Chrys stopped and turned toward the brothers before they could go down the hallway, taking a deep breath.

“Okay, this is gonna come as a shock. So just… Shut up in there, okay? I’ll do the talking, you guys just stand there and look good. They tell me we’re at the tail end of it, so we probably won’t be here long. Deal?”

Sam nodded, curiosity burning in his chest.  _ What the fuck is going on? _ Dean nodded beside him.

She went to a door further down the hall and seemed to take a moment to steady herself. When he saw that she was shaking, Sam put a hand at the small of her back and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Hey, whatever’s going on, we’ve got your back, okay?”

She smiled wanly up at him and nodded. “All right, let’s do this.”

She pushed the door open, and they followed her into a small hospital room with two people in it. One of them was a nurse, who looked up and smiled gratefully at them. “Chrys, it’s good to see you again.”

Chrys smiled and nodded. “You, too, Kelly.”

“Chryssy?” The other woman in the room asked, looking up at them. Sam noticed her hair, which would be dark if it wasn’t mostly gray, her bright blue eyes, and her thin frame. Shock and recognition ricocheted through him as Chrys knelt in front of the woman’s chair and took her hand.

“Hi, Mama.”

***

Chrys held her mother’s hand, and as it always did, the flash of recognition in the older woman’s blue eyes warmed her heart. “Mama, I’m here with some friends.”

Grace Summers pulled Chrys’s hand to her mouth and pressed her lips to it. “My pretty daughter, here to see me.”

Chrys smiled, a familiar dull ache pressing on her chest. “I’m here, it’s okay, Mama.”

Grace nodded and patted Chrys’s hand. “My pretty Chryssy. So troubled, but so lovely.”

Chrys tried to catch her mother's eye. “Mama, I brought some friends of mine to meet you, is that okay?”

Grace’s eyes suddenly settled on the Winchesters. “Oh, my.” She looked down at Chrys, and it was like looking at her actual, sane mother again. “What have you gotten mixed up in, Chryssy, that you’re surrounded by such beautiful, broken men?”

Chrys smiled at her mother’s accurate description. “Saving the world, Mama, just like always.”

Grace nodded and straightened in her chair. She looked at the brothers and waved one of her hands. “Well, come here, let me get a look at the puppies following my daughter around.”

Chrys snickered and watched the boys come to stand in front of her mother. Dean put on a charming smile and shook Grace’s hand. “Mrs. Summers, my name is Dean. It’s nice to meet you.”

Chrys was doubly amused to see her mother blush. “Oh, my,” Grace said softly, “Aren’t you a looker?”

Dean dimpled, and Grace continued. “But you’re not the one my daughter is with, no? No, I think it’s the taller one.” Her gaze turned to Sam. “She always did want someone she had to look up at to kiss.”

Chrys felt a blush rising on her own cheeks when Sam shot her a wink. And she felt a little warm and fuzzy on the inside when he actually knelt beside her, in front of her mother. “Mrs. Summers, I’m Sam Winchester. It’s lovely to meet you, and it’s easy to see why Chrys is so beautiful.”

Chrys was irritated to feel another blush on her cheeks to match her mother’s. Grace smiled. “A charmer, Chryssy, you’ve found yourself a charmer.”

Chrys chuckled. “He’s something anyway, Mama.”

Sam shot her a wink, but Chrys was focused on Grace, who was outright staring at Sam now. She was quiet for a few moments, then, “He’s a warrior, Chryssy,” Grace said reverently.

Chrys smiled and smoothed her mother’s hair away from her face. “Yes, he is.” Sam put a hand on her back, and it made her warm again.

“But he has a darkness in him, Chryssy,” Grace continued. “That's good, the darkness in him might speak to the darkness in you.”

Chrys’s face became impassive, and she gently pushed Sam away until he stood and took a step back, ignoring the confusion on his handsome face. Chrys rolled forward until she was on her knees in front of her mother. “It already does. I love you, Mama,” she said, meeting her mother’s blue eyes, hoping to convey comfort in the last lucid moment her mother was likely to have in a long time. It was always almost over when Grace mentioned the darkness in Chrys.

Her mother’s eyes started flicking around the room. “Darkness, yes, so much darkness in you. And him. So many demons,” she muttered.

Chrys put her hand on Grace’s face. “Come on, Mama, come back to me.”

Grace snapped her head back, away from Chrys. “Darkness  _ everywhere.” _

Chrys flinched and moved to restrain her mother’s hands gently, before they even started moving. She looked back at the brothers. “Go get a nurse,” she said softly. Dean turned and left, and Sam took a hesitant step forward. “Do you need-”

“Is he a demon?” Grace asked, her head tilted to the side, her voice getting that mean little lilt to it that Chrys was so familiar with. “He’s certainly not  _ human, _ and I doubt that he’s any good.”

Sam’s eyes widened, and Chrys’s temper snapped at her.  _ “Hey,” _ she snapped, “Eyes on me, don’t you talk to Sam.”

Grace’s eyes swivelled to her daughter, and Chrys just felt tired. “Come on, Mama, don’t do this.”

Grace’s face twisted, and Chrys’s heart dropped. “Of course  _ you _ would defend him, you’re barely human yourself.”

Chrys just nodded, resigned. “That’s right, Mama.”

Grace seemed to look far away. “You’re the reason your father is dead, you know.”

“I know, Mama.”  _ Where the fuck is the nurse? _

Grace started to struggle against Chrys’s hold on her hands. “He died! Because of you!  _ He died screaming your name!” _ she screeched.

Chrys held her mother down dispassionately, but she saw Sam flinch in the corner. “I know, Mama.”

“If we had never had you, he’d been alive, and I wouldn’t be in this  _ fucking nuthouse!” _

“I know, Mama, and I’m sorry,” Chrys whispered, tears filling her eyes. “I’m so sorry.” She normally didn’t get emotional during her mother’s violent episodes, but recent events had left her drained.

Which was probably why she didn’t see her mother tense and lash out. Chrys cried out as her mother’s teeth sank into her shoulder. “Fuck!”

“Chrys!”

“Chrys!”

The brothers shouting her name comforted her in some indefinable way, but Kelly shouting, “Grace!” helped a whole lot more.

The nurse managed to get Grace to let go, and Chrys backed away, clasping her shoulder as more people poured into the room. Sam wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, and the heat radiating off of him centered her a little.

_ “He died screaming your name, you little cunt!” _

Chrys whimpered and leaned into Sam. “I know, Mama,” she whispered.

***

Sam was holding Chrys, waiting for the doctor to come give her the go ahead to leave. She hadn’t stopped trembling since the orderlies had sedated her mother, and he was worried.

The doctor came in. “All righty, you’re good to go, Chrys.”

Chrys raised her head and smiled. “Thanks, Doc.”

The doctor had a kind smile on her face, and she touched Chrys’s hand. “How you holdin’ up, kiddo?”

Sam liked Dr. Cook. She was smart and compassionate, taking in Sam’s hovering presence and Chrys’s tears without batting an eye. He hadn’t let Chrys off of his lap the entire time they’d been there, and she had argued only for a moment. When he hadn’t let go, she just lay her head on his shoulder and let everything happen around her.

Chrys shrugged. “How long was she here?”

The doctor sighed. “Half a day. I’m sorry you only caught the last few minutes.”

Sam felt Chrys shrug again. “My fault for not being close.”

“Stop that,” Dr. Cook said firmly. “Chrys, you deserve to have a life. What happened to your mother isn’t your fault, you can’t keep beating yourself up about it.”

Sam saw disbelief in Chrys’s tight smile. “Whatever you say, Doc.”

***

Later, in the motel, Chrys was having trouble sleeping. Her shoulder hurt, her mind was whirling, and she was restless as fuck.

But Sam was still behind her, and she assumed he was asleep, so she tried to be quiet and stay where she was.

“Chrys?” Sam whispered.

She sighed. “Sam, go to sleep.”

He gently prodded her until she was facing him. He ran a thumb along her cheekbone. “Not with you stiff as a board. I can’t.”

She frowned. “I’ll go outside so you can get some rest.”

His hand caught her hips before she could swivel out of bed. “No, come on, Chrys, just stay here and talk to me?” The question at the end told her it wasn’t an order.

“Sam, there’s nothing to talk about. It’s fine.”

He looked at her closely. “I don’t think it is.”

She wiggled away from him and stood. “Well, fucking tough. I’m going outside.” She grabbed his hoodie and a pair of leggings, dressed quickly, and walked out.

There was a bench not too far from the door. She crossed her legs underneath her and lit up, too drained by the last two days to be properly mad at Sam.

She still couldn't muster it when he came and sat next to her on the bench, and she couldn’t help leaning into him when he stretched an arm across the back. “How’s your shoulder?”

She shrugged and cuddled into his warmth. “It hurts.”

“Did you get any pain meds?”

She shook her head, soaking in his scent. “I was an addict, Sam. I don’t trust myself with pain meds. I’ll be all right.”

They were silent for a while, then, “What did she mean when she said you’re barely human?” he asked softly.

Chrys groaned. “I don’t suppose you could just let this go?”

To her begrudging amusement, he actually seemed to consider the question. “Probably not,” he answered honestly.

She sighed and nestled closer to him, tossing her cigarette away and swinging her legs out from under her to lay across his. His big hand coming to rest on her knee sent waves of warmth up to her heart. “She meant about me being Lucifer’s intended.”

He frowned. “She thinks that makes you less than human?”

Chrys ran a hand through her hair, brushing it to rest across her injured shoulder. “It’s hard to know what she thinks anymore,” she said softly.

His hand came up to run through her hair, and she felt herself relaxing into him more. She took a moment to revel in how comfortable he made her.

“What happened?” he asked softly. His hand tightened, keeping her head on his chest when she tensed. “Come on, Chrys, please? I just want to understand.”

She really was too drained to fight with him, so she relaxed back into him. “I told you that when I was nineteen, my parents died, which wasn’t strictly untrue. I ran away when I was nineteen, to drink and do drugs and stupid shit that teenagers do. They…” She took a deep breath, irritated when her breath caught and she shuddered. “They disappeared.”

“I thought they were dead, because  _ everyone _ told me they had to be,” she continued softly, relishing the feeling of his hand beginning to thread itself through her hair again. “But, uh, they weren’t dead. Demons took them, looking for me. I had gotten this stupid temporary tattoo, it was supposed to be a warding, I didn’t even think it would work. But apparently it did, so much so that they panicked when they couldn’t find me.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she pressed her face into Sam’s chest, a wave of exhaustion hitting her all at once.  _ I’m too much bitchy to cry this much in two days. _ “They hurt them for days until that stupid goddamn tattoo wore off. My mother went insane before they let her go. And they killed my father.” She sniffled. “He never told them anything.”

There were a few beats of silence, then, “Jesus fucking Christ, Chrys.”

She snorted and wiped her eyes, trying to subtly check to see if she was snotting, too.  _ Sexy, Summers.  _ “Yeah, uh, so that happened. She has lucid moments sometimes, so the nurses try to call me so I can talk to her. To apologize.”

He tensed beneath her. “Chrys, it wasn’t your fault.” She sighed, but before she could speak, he continued.

“You were a teenager, you had gone through a hell of a lot. You were just trying to find an escape, and you probably tried a hundred wardings. The fact that you didn’t know the demons were going to do that just means you were a good kid.”

He shifted so he could look at her face. The kindness in his brown eyes made her tear up again. “Chrys, you’re a good person put in a shitty situation.  _ You did nothing to deserve this.” _

It wasn’t his words that got her. It was the absolute sincerity in his face, that kindness in his eyes, and the fact that he was still wrapped around her, even when he should have pushed her off.

_ I love you. _

The words were on the tip of her tongue, and they scared the shit out of her. So instead of saying them, she tried to convey the feeling as she pressed her lips against his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I got a few requests for some of Chrys's backstory, so I hope this fills the void? There will definitely be more. And I can't tell you how much it means to me that you guys want to know more about Chrys. <3  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	18. Why Do You Want to Get Shot?

Chrys’s head was pounding, and if Dean gave her that concerned look one more goddamn time, she was going to punch him in his stupid face.

He glanced over at her. “How you-”

“Shut the fuck up, Dean,” she growled, pressing on her forehead. “Let’s just find Sam.”

He glared at her. “Fine,” he snapped. “We’ll go get the stuff from the room and then we’ll go find him.”

She nodded, trying to breathe through the pain.  _ Where the fuck is that idiot? _

They had come to work a case for one of the guys’ childhood babysitters. They had gone to eat, done some research, and then Sam had essentially disappeared.

Dean had to help her out of the car because her legs were starting to give out. Which made her more irritable, but she bit back her sharp remark. He was just trying to help, and she really did need his gentle, guiding hands to stand. He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her to the door.

When they got into the room, Sam was standing there. And  _ everything _ was wrong. His facial expression, the look in his eyes when he looked at her. The biggest giveaway was the way he held himself. Chrys was pretty damn familiar with the way Sam held that rather ridiculous body when he was around her, and this wasn't it.

_ That’s not Sam. _

Dean was glaring at him. “Sam. Where the hell you been, man? I've been trying to call you for hours. Chrys is in some serious pain.”

The man wearing Sam’s face frowned. “Chrys?”

“That’s not Sam,” Chrys said weakly. She grabbed Dean’s hand. “That’s not him. That’s someone wearing him.”

“What?!” The man wearing Sam’s face said loudly. “That’s crazy!”

Dean ignored him to study her. “What?”

“Dean, that’s not Sam. He’s different, and my head still fucking hurts.”

Dean looked at her closely for another moment, then nodded and pulled his gun out, keeping his arm around her. He held it to the man wearing Sam’s face. “Who the fuck are you, and where the fuck is Sam?”

The man held his hands up, which just confirmed Chrys’s suspicion. Sam would have laughed in Dean’s face if he pulled a gun on him. “Hey, man, come on, I’m definitely your Sammy.”

Dean’s face hardened dangerously, because Sam would  _ never _ call himself Sammy. “If you think I won’t shoot you, you’re wrong.”

The man looked at Chrys desperately. “Talk some sense into him! I’m me!”

Chrys looked at him dispassionately. “Shoot him.”

Dean nodded, then pointed the gun down and shot the man wearing Sam’s face in the leg.

He cried out and went down, and Chrys’s anger suddenly swept her pain back a little. She straightened her back and strode forward to step on the bullet wound. “Buddy, buddy, you’re gonna want to listen  _ very _ closely to this.”

He was still screaming, so she rolled her eyes and backhanded him. “Hey!” she shouted, snapping her fingers in his face. She smiled kindly when he finally looked at her. “Listen to me, bud. I want Sam back. You’re going to tell me exactly where he is, how you did this, and how to reverse it, or I am going to make you hurt  _ so _ much more than that bullet wound. Understood?”

His eyes widened, and then a mulish look crossed his face. “Fuck you.”

She nodded. “All righty, then.” She turned to Dean. “Keep him here. Shoot him again if you need to.”

She walked into the bathroom and opened the cabinet. There was a small bottle of bleach, which she assumed was for the cleaners. She grabbed it and walked out into the living room again. The man’s eyes widened when he saw her set it down on the table.

She walked over to Sam’s bag and pulled out a wicked looking knife, and smiled fondly at it, then pulled out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. She turned back and smiled at the man. “You know, Sam and I are together,” she said mildly as she walked back over to him, snagging the bleach on the way. “And Sam, you know, Sam has done some fucking up.” She smiled again and waved the knife at him. “So this is going to be borderline cathartic for me.”

The man’s face became panicked, and Chrys had a sudden yearning for Sam, who would have laughed in  _ her _ face, had she threatened to torture him. The pounding in her head came back with a vengeance.

“Okay, okay, okay!”

***

“Sam!”

Sam spun, irritated, a little scared, and very worried about Chrys.  _ Stupid fucking kid. _

When he saw Chrys and his brother, dragging someone wearing his body, relief swamped him. “Guys!” He frowned at Chrys, who was pale and wincing. “Chrys, are you all right?”

She smiled. “Yeah, Sammy, better now.”

Dean nodded and Gary. “All right, kiddo, you ready to reverse this spell? So I don’t have to turn this crazy bitch on you?” Chrys smacked him on the arm.

Gary snorted, and Sam frowned again.  _ Is that what I look like when I do that? _ “Please,” Gary was saying, “she can barely walk.”

Chrys growled and turned to face Gary. “Feeling much better now that Sam’s here, Gary,” she said softly. “So you want to watch your mouth, hear me? I am  _ itching _ to shoot you again.”

“Again?” Sam asked, irritated all over again.

“Shut up, Sam.”

***

They sat in Gary’s bedroom, the ingredients for the spell laid out before them. Sam was watching Chrys, who was pointing a gun at his body in a very cavalier manner that made him nervous. “Chrys, you wanna cool it with that gun?”

She didn’t even look at him. “Nope, I’m good.” She nodded at Gary. “We ready?”

He looked back at her evenly. “I guess.” There was a beat of silence, then, “So, I don’t suppose you-”

“Gary,” Chrys interrupted, “If the next word out of your mouth isn’t the beginning of a spell, I will shoot you again, I swear to fuck.”

He blanched, then looked forward. “Animae domum redeant. Fas atque nefas instauretur. Potestate et auctoritate, sic fiat.” He tossed the powder in his hand into the bowl in the center of the room. A bright light flashed, and when Sam opened his eyes, he was looking at Gary, in his own skinny nerd body.

Before Sam could celebrate, pain shot through him, and he winced. “Fucking ouch.” He looked at Chrys and Dean. “Which one of you shot me?”

“I did,” Chrys said easily, shrugging. “He wouldn’t tell me where you were.”

Dean frowned and opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Gary did. “But-”

Chrys shut him up with a glare. “Gary, would you like to kindly shut the fuck up now? Since, you know, I’m still pissed, and you’re still the one I’m pissed at, and I still have a gun?”

Sam frowned. “Well, next time, maybe don’t put a bullet in me, Chrys.”

She rolled her eyes, but he saw the flash of emotion in them before she did. “Well, maybe next time don’t get got by a goddamn teenager, Sam.”

Sam sighed and stood up, almost falling when he did so. Dean caught and steadied him. “Easy there, bud.”

Chrys nodded toward the door. “Head on out, guys. Let me talk to Gary for a sec.”

They walked out, but Sam stopped them before they left earshot. Instead, he just made sure they were hidden, so he could eavesdrop.

“Gary, listen, I get why you’d want Sam’s life,” Chrys said softly.

Gary snorted. “Please, like you understand anything.”

_ “Okay, _ dude, I still have a gun. Why do you want to get shot? Did you like it the first time?” Sam grinned, because that was the most  _ Chrys _ thing she’d said since they’d found each other again, so she must be feeling better, and heard her take a deep breath. “What I’m  _ trying _ to say, Gary, is that I get it. But you’re not seeing what’s in front of you.”

“And what, exactly, is that?”

“Gary, in a year or two, you’re going to go to  _ college. _ You’re going to get to lead a normal, happy life. And if you don’t like what your parents have planned for you, tell them to go fuck themselves! Rebel, in a normal, non-witchcrafty way. Don’t throw away your chance at a life, Gary. Some of us would kill to have it.”

The kid sounded considerably less irritated. “Really?”

Chrys’s voice sounded closer. “Really.”

Not wanting to get shot again, Sam shoved at Dean to get him down the hallway before she caught them there.

***

After Dean patched Sam up, he went outside to find Chrys smoking against the wall. Dean watched her for a second, and realized how hard the last two weeks had been on her. She seemed like she was losing weight, although he wasn’t sure how that was possible. There were dark circles under her eyes, and the place where her mother had bit her was still bruised and livid.

He walked over and leaned next to her. “How you holdin’ up, Summers?”

“Cram it, Dean.”

He grinned. “You’re fine.” He let a moment of silence pass, then, “Seriously. You okay?”

She looked at him, then nodded. “Yeah.”

Another moment of silence, then, “Hey, you weren’t gonna use  _ bleach _ on that kid, were you?”

She laughed softly. “No, although if he had made me I would have. Sometimes, someone’s imagination is worse than anything I could do to them.”

He nodded, then asked what had been bouncing around in his mind. “Why did you tell Sam you’re the one who shot him?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because I gave you the go ahead, and if it had been in my hand, I would have pulled the trigger, too. And…” She sighed. “And, quite frankly, you guys have enough to be mad at each other for. He can be mad at me, but you guys need to stay on the same team.

Dean frowned. “What about you?”

She smiled sadly. “Sometimes, being a team player means giving the team someone to be mad at.”

***

That night, Sam was lying on his back, which was the position in which his leg hurt the least, and waiting for Chrys to give in and come lay in the bed.

She hadn’t made a big deal out of it, but she’d made her bed on the couch. Dean hadn’t mentioned it, either, just gave Sam a look to follow his lead and shut up, too. So Sam had, and was now just waiting for her to break.

But it had been a couple of hours, and she didn’t seem like she was any closer to coming to bed. “Chrys,” he said softly.

“Sammy, if you order me to come get into that bed, I will shoot that leg again.”

He grinned. “Come on, Chrys, please? I can’t sleep without you.”

“Ugh, corny,” she complained, but she sighed and got up off of the couch and came to sit on the bed next to him, wrapped in her blanket. “Better?”

He looked up at her. “Come lay down?”

She shook her head. “No, but I’ll sit here for a while.”

She carefully sat next to him, leaned up against the headboard. Her fingers started running through his hair, and he felt something hard in him relax. “How you holdin’ up, Sammy?” she asked softly.

He leaned into her hand, and brought his own hand to rest on her knee. “Like I got shot in the fucking leg.”

She laughed softly. “Well, yeah, that makes sense.”

There was silence for a long time, then, “Sorry about the bullet, Sammy.”

He looked up at her. “Did you just apologize to me?”

She smirked. “Don’t let it go to your head, handsome. I try to apologize when I shoot people I like.”

He pressed his face into her hip. “Careful, beautiful, I think you just admitted to liking me.”

She smiled and leaned her head back. “You’re all right, I guess.”

Sam drifted to sleep with a smile on his face.

***

The next morning, Dean had left to get breakfast, and Chrys was redressing Sam’s wound.

He was sitting on the bed, and she was being as gentle as possible, but he was being kind of a pussy about the whole thing. “Done,” she said cheerfully, patting his other leg as she leaned back. “You’re done.”

“Jesus, could you be a little rougher, Chrys?” 

She rolled her eyes and let her hands rest on his knees. “You’ll be all, tough guy,” she said with a smile. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his uninjured thigh. “You’re gonna make it.”

When she looked up at him, he had stilled, and his eyes had darkened. She felt her own breath hitch a little, and she slid her hand back up his thigh.

“Chrys,” he husked, shuddering as she went higher and higher up his leg.

“Tell me what you want, Sam,” she said softly, feeling her entire being tighten at the thought of him. Her hand moved up to rest on his hip, just barely avoiding the growing bulge in his boxers.

He groaned and gripped the back of her neck to pull her close. He dominated their kiss, and she let him, whimpering into his mouth.  She palmed him through the thin fabric of his boxers, gasping into him when she felt the huge, hard length of him, already waiting for her.

She kissed her way from his mouth, down his jaw, and back up to his ear again. “Say it, baby,” she whimpered, “Tell me what you want.”

He groaned and leaned back enough to look her in the eye. She tried to tell him with her gaze that it was all right, and he seemed to get the message, because his voice dropped and his eyes darkened. “Suck my cock, Chrys.”

She closed her eyes and shivered, then started to kiss and nip her way down his neck to his chest. When she was there, she ran her tongue lightly across his nipples, smiling at the soft noises he made at the back of his throat. She continued her way down his flat stomach, highlighting all of those beautiful muscles with her tongue. She put a hand on his chest and shoved him lightly so he was laying on his back.

She pressed a light kiss to the underside of his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers when she got there, relishing the powerful feeling his reaction gave her. She freed him from the garment, taking another moment to appreciate how beautiful Sam really was. Then she hollowed her cheeks and took just the tip of him into her mouth.

She sucked hard and swirled her tongue around it, waiting for Sam to catch up.

He did a moment later. His hand came to rest on the back of her head, threading through her hair. He set a steady, fast pace, moving her up and down his length. She relished the hard, heavy feeling of him in her mouth.

She sucked hard, taking him down into her throat until her lips made contact with his pelvis. He grunted and held her there for just a second, then pulled her back up to the tip to start over there.

The twitches upwards in his hips, his shallow breathing, and the way his fingers tightened in her hair told her he was close. She sucked harder and moaned low in her throat, smiling when he jerked again into her mouth. “Fuck, Chrys, I’m-”

He thrust into her again, holding her head down and coming hard. She swallowed leisurely, memorizing the feel of him pumping into her mouth, licking and sucking him clean.

Once he was spent, she pulled away and smiled. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He turned and caught her lips with his, and she felt a surge of arousal in her belly. She tamped it down and pulled away from him to stand. “All right, put your pants on and let’s go.”

He frowned and caught her hands. “What about you?”

She thought of all the ways he’d helped her in the past several days, from being kind to her mother, holding her the night she’d gotten back from Lucifer, and the way he’d told her she was a good person like he actually believed it. She wasn’t a very selfless woman, and the heavy feeling in her nether regions was insistent.

But it was Sam, and he had been good to her.

_ Plus, you know, you fucking shot him. _

So she smiled and kissed him again. “Pay me back later, Sammy, I think that’s the Impala I hear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	19. Just Follow

Sam watched Chrys push the very small amount of food she had around on her plate while he, Dean, and Bobby ate dinner. They had decided to go back to Bobby’s to regroup, since no cases had popped up after the body-switching incident. They had arrived in the early evening, just in time for dinner.

“I’m just pissed the Colt didn’t work,” Dean said, for probably the thirtieth time.

Bobby nodded. “Well, we just gotta get back to it. We’ll find a way to kill him.”

Chrys was silent, and Sam smiled a little when he realized she was starting to nod off. He put an arm around the back of her chair and leaned close. “Do you want to go to bed, beautiful?”

She turned and smiled softly at him, and it did things to him. _God, she’s gorgeous._ She stared at him for a long moment. “Yeah, I think I do.” She looked at him for another moment, then turned back to the other men. “Sorry, gentlemen, I think I’m going to call it a night.” She stood and walked away, running a hand down her face.

Sam watched her go until she shut the door to the bedroom they were sharing. When he turned back around, Bobby was looking at him with an unreadable expression, and Dean looked downright irritated.

Sam frowned. “What?”

Bobby shook his head. “Nothin’.”

Dean just stared at him evenly. “How’s Chrys?”

Sam blinked. “Uh, I don’t know. Fine?”

Dean rolled his eyes and stood. “Yeah, okay.” He snorted and looked at Bobby. “He’s the ‘sensitive’ one, and he says she’s fine.”

Sam stared. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Dean shook his head. “Sam, every second you don’t go up there makes you a bigger fuckface.”

Sam frowned. “She’s fine, Dean. She would tell me if something was wrong.”

Bobby snorted, and Sam turned to him. “She’s not a real touchy-feely gal, Sam.”

Sam thought for a second, trying to tamp down his anger. She did seem quiet, and she hadn’t fought him at all all day on the way here. Which wasn’t like her, but still.

He shook his head stubbornly. “Yeah, she would.”

Dean drained the last of his beer, anger radiating off of him. “Whatever you say, Sammy,” he snapped. “I’m going to bed.” He stalked away, slamming his door shut behind him.

Sam turned to Bobby, bewildered. “What the hell was that?”

Bobby met his gaze. “Dean likes Chrys, and so do I. She’s good people, and she’s been through a lot, from what you boys have told me. Maybe she needs a little more from you, Sam.”

Irritated, Sam stood. “Fine, then I guess I’m going to bed, too.”

He walked up the stairs, anger burning beneath the surface. What did they think he did, just ignore Chrys? He knew she was going through some stuff, but if she was upset, she would _tell_ him, right? Chrys wasn’t a very subtle person.

He slowly entered the bedroom, closing the door behind him gently. When he turned, he saw Chrys sitting on the bed, her arms wrapped around her knees. She gazed at him emotionlessly. “Hi, Sammy.”

He frowned and sat next to her, but didn’t touch her yet. “Are you all right?”

She lay her head on her knees to look at him. “Yeah. Why? What’s wrong?”

He put a hand on her back and really looked at her for a second. She looked… Exhausted. There were dark circles under her eyes, and now that he looked at her, she looked thinner, if that was even possible.

“Chrys,” he said softly. “Are you all right?”

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

He ran his hand up to thread it through her hair. “Chrys, please talk to me. You’re not okay.”

To his alarm, tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m fine, Sam.”

He brushed her hair away from her face gently. “Come on, beautiful.”

The tears slowly fell. “I… I’m okay.”

He gently, quickly, moved so he was sitting behind her, her back pressed into his chest, his legs spread out on either side of her. Favoring his injury, he wrapped his arms around hers and buried his face in her hair. “Chrys, please tell me what’s going on,” he murmured.

She shook and whimpered a little. “I’m okay, Sammy, it’s just been a long few weeks.”

He nodded and held her tighter. “Talk to me, beautiful. Tell me about it.”

She shook her head. “Sam, I… I can’t.” She took in a shuddery breath. “I just mean that… I don’t… I can’t, Sam, I can’t.”

Chagrined, he nodded and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Okay, it’s all right. Let’s just… Come here.” He maneuvered them until he was on his back, and she was settled on his chest. She cried softly, her hand over her mouth, shaking in his arms.

Her tears made his heart ache, and he held her tight, ignoring the tears in his own eyes.

***

The next morning, Chrys woke early. Her eyes hurt, her nose was stuffy, and she was completely and totally embarrassed.

And, of course, wildly in love with Sam Winchester.

 _Ugh,_ she thought to herself, even as she cuddled closer to his big, warm form, taking care not to bump his hurt leg. _Get it together, Summers._ Just because Sam was nice to her didn’t mean anything. She’d cried like a bitch and he’d been kind. Not only was it a primary part of who he was, he would have had to be a pretty big dick to not be.

She got out of bed gently, smiling when he turned and stayed asleep. She gave in to her impulse to smooth his hair away from his forehead, the pain in her heart almost overwhelming. Before she could embarrass herself _more,_ she stood, dressed, and quickly left the room.

She had the house to herself for a while, so she made a pot of coffee and sat on the couch, curling her feet underneath her.

She was trying to avoid her thoughts. She wanted to think about the man in the bed upstairs, but she tried not to. There was no use in it. It wasn’t like she could _leave._ It would kill her. Literally.

It was impossible to stop the thoughts galloping through her mind. The almost certainty that they would not win the fight against Lucifer. The insane hope that they would. The absolute dread that, if they did win, the bond between her and Sam would be severed, and he would leave her broken and hurting, while he went off to keep saving the world with his brother.

She had a fantasy, that she would _never_ admit to, of them living a normal life. Sam went off to college, she worked with kids, or maybe dogs. He came home and kissed her senseless every night, she cooked dinner, and they made love before falling asleep together.

Which was ridiculous, because they were going to hell to rule side-by-side, she didn’t know how to cook, and you had to be _in_ love with someone to _make_ love to them.

The coffeemaker completing it’s brew cycle shook her out of her thoughts. She stood and went to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. On the way, she flicked the radio on, and stopped moving when she heard the Christmas music tinkling through the air.

“What the fuck? Is it Christmas?”

***

Sam woke up to the sounds of Christmas music floating up to their room. He turned and reached for Chrys, hoping to delay waking for a few more minutes, but she wasn’t there.

He rolled onto his back and tucked his hands behind his head, thinking about how to handle this morning. She was going to be embarrassed about last night, Chrys despised showing weakness, or what she perceived as weakness. Did he tell her it was nothing to be ashamed of? She might rip his tongue out of his head. Did he ignore it? She might think he was ashamed _for_ her.

He was still thinking about it when her low, melodic voice carried up the stairs.

 _“Oh, come all ye faithful,_ _joyful and triumphant._ _  
_ _Oh, come ye, oh, come ye to Bethlehem.”_

Helpless against her voice, helpless against _her,_ he stood and grabbed a shirt on the way out the door.

When he got to the hallway, he saw Dean was also poking his head out. The smell of coffee filled the house, he followed it and her voice to find her. Dean grumbled and shut his door again.

 _“Sing choirs of angels,_ _sing in exultation._ _  
_ _Sing, all ye senders of the heaven above.”_

She was cleaning one of their rifles in the living room. The day before, she’d berated them for letting the guns get into that condition. Dean had pointed out that they had bigger fish, Chrys had pointed out that there would be no way to shoot those fish if the guns wouldn’t fire.

She was wearing her typical tank top and skirt, with her hair braided and draped over her shoulder. It was what she usually wore, but today, it seemed… Different. Radiant.

 _“Yea, Lord, we greet Thee,_ _born that happy morning,_ _  
_ _Jesus, to Thee be all glory giv’n.”_

Her slender hand moved the oilcloth along the barrel, her movements slow and sure. He limped down the stairs, but stopped in the middle, shirt still in hand, and took the rare opportunity to study her.

The bite on her shoulder was _finally_ healing, and the bruising had faded to a dull yellow. It still made him sick to his stomach to look at it, to see that there was now a permanent reminder of the pain she’d gone through. The fact that she was still up and walking around, like a normal (albeit a little prickly) person was astounding.

Her face was relaxed, her blue eyes alert and focused on her task. She had one long leg crossed over the other, and her foot gently kicked in time to the music. She was effortlessly enchanting.

 _“Word of the Father,_ _now in flesh appearing._  
_Oh come let us adore Him,_  
_oh come let us adore Him,_ _  
_ oh come let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.”

He suddenly couldn’t stand not touching her. He finished coming down the stairs, draped his shirt over the railing, and approached her, still limping.

She looked up, her eyes widened and a blush rose on her lovely cheeks. Sam was forcefully reminded again how pretty she was as she looked down to put the gun across her lap.

He took that face in his hands and bent at the waist to kiss her thoroughly. She was stiff, then sighed and melted against him, opening for him when he nipped at her bottom lip.

Her soft hands ran from his waist up his bare chest, and he shuddered at the her touch. “Christ, Chrys.”

She smiled against his mouth and ran her nails lightly back down until her hands rested at his waist again, just above the band of his sweats. “Morning, handsome.”

The sound of Dean’s bedroom door opening had them both jumping back. Sam grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head, winking at Chrys when he saw the blush getting brighter on her cheeks.

Dean looked grumpy when he came down, but when Chrys smiled at him, Sam was amazed to see his brother’s face soften. “Morning, Dean, Coffee’s ready.” He grunted in reply.

She turned and smiled up at Sam, standing. “How’s that leg, Sammy?”

He looked down at her when she approached. “Fine.”

She ran a hand down his arm. “Sure?” Her blue eyes, clouded with concern, examined him closely. He nodded.

Dean was leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, watching them closely. “Didn’t know you were all choir girl about Christmas, Chrys,” he said lightly, sipping coffee.

She put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and guided him to a chair. “Sit,” she demanded softly. “I’ll get your coffee.” He obeyed, stifling a smile at her hovering.

She went into the kitchen and spoke loudly. “I’m really not, Christmas was a time for my mother to tell us how Christians stole Yule.” Sam could almost hear her eye roll. “The woman was insatiable for conspiracies. So I’m not a big Christmas person, but the music is beautiful. Even Mama thought so, we used to sing carols all season long.” She came back in and handed Sam a steaming mug with a smile. “I even learned to dance to it.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Dance?”

She nodded. “Ballroom dancing. I’m best at the waltz, but I can do a mean salsa, too.”

Dean snorted behind her, and she turned to him with a smirk. “Don’t believe me, Winchester?”

The music changed, and Sam’s heart beat faster when Chrys’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, that’s a waltz.” She took Dean’s cup away and sat it down, then turned back and pulled Dean furthering the living room. “Come on, I’ll lead.”

Dean looked pained, and a little terrified. “Come on, Summers-”

“Shut up, Dean,” she said cheerfully, placing his hand on her hip. “Just follow.”

Sam watched them dance around the room slowly, then faster as Dean caught on. Soon he was spinning Chrys around, and her head tilted back so she could laugh.

That laugh _did_ something to Sam. He felt jealousy rise up in him, making his blood boil a little. He had to remind himself that he had been shot three days ago, he couldn’t go twirling her around anywhere, anyway.

He focused instead on the way she moved, her hand light in Dean’s, her long legs gracefully carrying her. The way her lips were tilted up, and her hips mirrored his brother’s as they danced.

And it was there, watching her dance in the living room with his brother, that Sam realized that his feelings for Chrys might go a little beyond “liking” her.

***

Chrys didn’t know what the hell had gotten into Sam, but she liked it. Since she’d danced with Dean that morning, in a moment of temporary insanity, Sam had become incredibly handsy. He had hardly let her go all day.

They were on the couch, doing research. She was leaned up against him, one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders, the other flipping through the pages of a book. His fingers were playing along her collarbone, which was distracting as fuck, so she wasn’t researching as much as sitting there in a lust-filled haze.

Luckily, Sam was pretty easy to distract.

She put a hand on his knee, refocusing on her book. Slowly, so slowly, she began to move it up, sending up a silent thanks that Dean and Bobby had gone out for supplies.

She noticed the very moment his breathing changed, and it sent heat down through her. But she didn’t move, just kept her eyes on the book.

Sam, however, wasn’t going to let her get away with this, apparently. His hand moved down her arm just as slowly, until he was gently cupping her breast, thumbing her rapidly hardening nipple. Her own breathing caught, and she arched subtly into his hand.

His deep chuckle sent more heat spiralling through her. _This plan has backfired._

“I feel like you want something, Chrys,” he rasped.

She whimpered. “Fuck, Sam…”

She turned and stood long enough to move the books to the floor, then very gently straddled him, making sure not to jostle his leg. His hands moved up her sides, one tangling itself in her hair to tug her head back so he could brush his lips against her neck. She moaned and ran her hands down his chest, savoring the hardness of him.

His other hand cupped her breast again, and she moaned as he pulled her shirt down enough that he could roll her nipple between his fingers. “Sam!”

She undid his belt, gasping when he pulled her head down to kiss her hard. She freed him from his jeans, tugging his pants down just far enough.

She moved her skirts out of the way and hovered over him, relishing the feeling of power again. She was already so wet she could feel the heat radiating from her core. He must have felt it, too, because he shifted and tried to thrust into her, but winced and let himself relax.

She smiled and loosely wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning forward to press her lips to his ear. “Tell me you want me, Sammy,” she whispered.

He moaned and put his hands on her hips, burying his face in her neck. “Fuck, I want you, beautiful. Please.”

The desperate little catch in his voice was her undoing. She slowly sank onto him, gasping when he bottomed out. She stayed there, dropping her head on his shoulder.

When she lifted her head, his hand came up to cup her face. She met his eyes and started moving, but when she started to let her eyes fall shut, they popped back open when his the ran along her cheek. “Look at me, beautiful, please,” he husked.

She did as asked, confused at what was happening even as she was grateful he hadn’t ordered her to. His other hand was on her hip, kneading and guiding her pace.

Chrys was overwhelmed. Those brown eyes looking up at her was affecting her thought processes, this was the most intimate she’d ever been with Sam. The way he was touching her face, not to hold her there, but just to be touching her.

It was the sexiest damn thing that had ever happened to her.

She moaned and picked up her pace, never breaking eye contact. The coil of heat in her belly was demanding attention, and it was becoming more and more urgent the longer she drowned in Sam’s brown eyes.

As her orgasm started to pour through her, Sam moved his hand to grip the back of her head and pull her down to kiss her. His tongue plunging into her mouth sent her spiralling up, shattering her into tiny pieces. She cried out into his mouth, then swallowed his deep moans in kind as he stiffened beneath her.

She whimpered into his mouth, and he kissed her gently before releasing her. She smiled and leaned back, feeling inexplicably warm and close to Sam.

He smiled up at her. “Let’s clean up before they get back, beautiful.”

***

That night, holding her against him, when he was alone with his thoughts and a sleeping Chrys, Sam was able to acknowledge that he didn’t just like her.

When he thought about her smile, her _real_ smile, which was quick and hard to catch, his heart beat faster.

If he thought about her hands, which could be harsh or gentle, depending on when you caught her, shivers went up and down his spine.

And when he thought about her, the Chrys who was by turns caring and callous, smart and naive, a lovely person and kind of a bitch, he felt something inside him start to flutter.

When he was alone went other his thoughts and a sleeping Chrys, Sam was able to acknowledge that he was falling in love with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	20. It's Like Mama Said

“Be my Valentine?”

Chrys rolled her eyes at Dean’s attempt at humor. Normally it would have at least gotten a smile, but she was on edge today.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah, wait a second,” Sam said, “These hearts both have identical marks. Check this out. It looks like some kind of letter. Oh, no.”

Dean frowned. “What?”

Chrys looked closely. “It’s Enochian. I think it’s the mark, loosely translated, for soulmates, but we’ll have to ask Cass.”

Dean blinked at her. “How the hell do you know that?”

“I just do,” she snapped. “Call the damn angel.”

Dean stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. “All right.”

Dean pulled his phone out, and Sam put a hand on Chrys’s back. “Hey,” he asked, looking down at her, “are you all right?”

She wrapped her arms around her middle and shook her head. “No, I don’t know what’s going on, but no.” She peered up at him, noticing how tense he looked. If she hadn’t been so miserable, she would have seen it earlier. “Are you?”

He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’m gonna hang up now.”

Chrys turned to see Castiel standing in front of Dean. They both hung up their phones, Dean with a bemused expression on his face, and Castiel with no expression at all.

Chrys’s temper snapped at her, and she wanted to say something snarky, but she swallowed it back. It certainly wasn’t Dean, or Sam, or even Castiel’s fault that she was hurting today.

It was her own.

Castiel walked over and picked up the heart. “You’re right, Chrys, it is Enochian. These marks will be on the other couples’ hearts, as well.” His blue eyes met her own. “You and Sam will share these marks, too.”

She blinked, then smirked ruefully. “Fat lot of good that did us, eh, Sammy?”

He gave her a tight smile, then turned back to Cass. “So what does that mean? Who put the marks there?”

“Well, your people call them ‘Cupid.’”

***

As soon as they got to the restaurant, Chrys retreated to the women’s restroom. Once inside, she turned and locked the door, then leaned against it and tried to take deep breaths.

She turned the light on and walked to the sink, bracing herself against the white porcelain and staring at herself in the mirror.

She was wearing her Fed suit, which was irritating and chafing and probably would be more comfortable if she wore underwear. But, since she didn’t own any, she went without. Her long hair was French braided away from her face, and fell down her back in a neat line. She looked thin, and pale, and sweaty.

Chrys had very rarely wanted to shoot up this badly in her entire life.

She didn’t  _ understand, _ she hadn’t been  _ triggered. _ She had been clean for years, why was this happening now? She got an urge from time to time, but nothing like  _ this. _ She had hardly been so close to going to try to find a needle.

She splashed cold water on her face and walked back out into the restaurant. She slid into the booth next to Sam, gratefully leaning into his warmth when he put his arm around her shoulders. He pressed a kiss to her temple as Dean spoke.

“So, what, you just happen to know he likes the cosmos at this place?”

Cass nodded. “This place is a nexus of human reproduction. It's exactly the kind of… Of garden the Cupid will come to… To pollinate.”

Chrys wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”

Dean put his cheeseburger back down, and Chrys’s eyebrows went up. “You’re not hungry?” Sam asked incredulously.

Dean blinked. “No. What? I’m not hungry.”

Castiel’s eyes lit up. “Then you’re not going to finish that?” He took the cheeseburger, then froze and looked around. “He’s here.”

Chrys looked, too. “I don’t see anything.”

Cass pointed. “There.”

Dean frowned. “You mean the same-side-of-the-booth couple over there?”

Chrys flushed, having sat down next to Sam without thinking about it, but pushed her embarrassment back to follow Castiel to the back of the restaurant.

“I have him tethered,” the angel said abruptly. “Zoda kama mahrana. Manifest yourself.”

Chrys looked around, not seeing anyone. Sam looked, too, his big hand still warm on her back.

Dean looked at Cass. “So, where is he?”

Out of nowhere, a big, mostly naked man appeared behind Dean. He wrapped his arms around the hunter and squeezed. “Here I am!”

***

Chrys was standing with Sam at the coroner’s office, after looking at the man who had stuffed himself so full of Twinkies he had died. As they walked down the hallway, she noticed he rubbed his temples again. She put a gentle hand on his arm and stopped him. “Sam, what’s wrong?”

He looked down at her. “Nothing, why?”

She rolled her eyes. “Smooth like gravel. You’re lying to me. What’s wrong?”

His eyes hardened. “I said nothing, Chrys, nothing is wrong.”

She crossed her arms. “Lying again, Sam. No dice.”

He started forward again. “I don’t  _ owe _ you anything, Chrys, so could you stop being a nag, please?”

She winced, hurt. He was being kind of a dick, and besides the physical affection, he’d been a dick all day. He was acting…

He was acting like she wanted to.

“Sam!” She stepped forward, grabbing his arm. “Sam, are you relapsing?”

He twirled to face her, his face pale. “What?”

She gripped his arm tighter. “Are you craving it? Demon blood? Like… Like you’re going through withdrawal? You can’t stop thinking about it?”

He stared down at her, his hazel eyes wide. “How did you know?” he asked softly.

She pulled her cell phone out. “We need Dean. Something fucked is going on.”

***

Sam stood next to Chrys, his arm around her shoulders, holding her close. He was in awe of her, and touching her not only calmed the craving in his soul, but it reaffirmed that she was real, and not a figment of his imagination.

They were listening to Castiel explain. “My hunger,” the angel said around the food in his mouth, “It’s a clue, actually. This town is not suffering from some love-gone-wrong effect. It’s suffering from hunger. Starvation, to be exact. Specifically, Famine.”

Sam blinked. “Famine? As… As in, the horseman?”

Dean was glowering. “Great. That’s… That’s fucking great.”

Chrys frowned. “I thought famine meant starvation. Like, food.”

Cass nodded. “Yes. Absolutely. But not just food. I mean, everyone seems to be starving for something. Sex, attention, drugs, love…” Chrys nodded back.

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Well, that explains the puppy lovers that Cupid shot up.”

“Right. The cherub made them crave love, and then Famine came, and made them rabid for it.”

Dean sighed. “Okay, but what about you? I mean, since when do angels secretly hunger for White Castle?”

“It's my vessel, Jimmy. His, uh, appetite for red meat has been touched by Famine's effect.”

“So, Famine just rolls into town and everybody goes crazy?”

"’And then will come Famine riding on a black steed. He will ride into the land of plenty, and great will be the Horseman's hunger, for he is hunger. His hunger will seep out and poison the air.’” Cass looked at each of them in turn. “Famine is hungry. He must devour the souls of his victims.”

Sam felt his flesh break out into a sweat, and he shuddered. He had no idea what the fuck was going on with his body.  _ Is this withdrawal? _

While Dean and Castiel spoke, Chrys put a hand on Sam’s face. He looked down at her, watching her pretty blue eyes examine him. She smiled kindly. “Come on, Sammy.”

She led him to the bathroom and wet a washcloth. Then she turned and ran it along his face. The cool water felt amazing, so he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. “These are the sweats,” she said softly. “It’s part of the addiction, of the withdrawal. Your body is going into fight-or-flight mode.”

He looked down at her, and frowned when he realized the hair at her temples was damp, and her hand was shaking as she washed his face. “Are you all right?”

She chuckled. “No, I’m going through the same thing. But helping someone else gives me something to focus on.”

He nodded, and even though his skin felt too tight for his body and pinpricks of pain covered his flesh, he took the time to gently brush the wet hair away from her face. The look in her eyes made his heart stutter, and he bent down to kiss her lightly on the lips, which was probably the most either of them could handle.

He heard Cass say, “I’m an angel. I can stop anytime I want.” Chrys chuckled, and it warmed Sam to see her smile.

Dean was rolling his eyes. “Whatever. Sam, Chrys, let’s roll.”

Sam winced, then watched as Chrys turned to the door and hung her head a little. “Dean, I can’t go,” she said softly.

He glared. “What?”

She took in a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m… Going through withdrawal again? I’m craving… The stuff I used to do.”

He blinked. “Meth?”

Sam’s hackles rose, but Chrys cut him off. “Yes.” She took in another shaky breath. “Dean, I’m really sorry, but I’m going to slow you guys down. So… You and Cass go. Sam can stay here and watch the place. Go cut the bastard’s finger off, then let’s get the fuck out of this town.”

Dean sighed, then looked at Sam. “What about you?”

Sam felt himself flush a little. “I’ve, uh, yeah. I’ve been feeling it a little.”

“But I’m the problem.” Chrys gave Dean a tight smile. “Sorry, Dean, I have to keep him here.”

Dean pointed at her and glared. “Cram it, Summers. You can’t fool me, I know he’s the one who can’t go. No more ‘taking one for the good of the team’ bullshit, Chrys, I mean it.” Sam felt his face heat up, and looked at Chrys for clarification on what the fuck Dean was talking about as his brother heaved a sigh. “But you’re right. The two of you would slow me down.”

Chrys nodded. “And, Dean, you’re gonna need to tie us up.”

***

Chrys was in the bathroom on the floor, her left hand cuffed to the pipe beneath the sink. Sam was sitting across the room, handcuffed to the radiator. He was wincing.

“Dean got a little enthusiastic about the cuffs,” he complained.

Chrys smiled and shrugged. “He’s probably pretty irritated.”

Sam sighed. “Something is wrong with him. He won’t talk to me.”

She sighed and leaned her head back against the wall. “He will, Sammy, you guys usually do in the end.”

He watched her for a second. “You doing okay?”

She shook her head. “Not even a little. But this is the best it’s gonna get until we can get the fuck out of here.”

Before she could continue, the sound of the dresser that Castiel had blocked the door with being moved interrupted her. She frowned, then looked at Sam.

He looked as worried as she was. “Guys?” He called, “Guys, what happened? I don't think it worked.”

The door opened, and two people that Chrys didn’t recognize entered. Adrenaline sizzled through her, and she suddenly wished more than anything that she wasn’t handcuffed.

“Look at this. Someone trussed you two up for us. Boss says we can't kill you… But I bet we can break off a few pieces.” The woman said, her eyes flashing black.

The man leaned down and snapped Sam’s cuffs. Chrys watched Sam knock the demon violently away, leaping into a standing position as he did so. There was a very dangerous air about Sam as he stalked toward the man, more so than usual.

He glanced at her, then went into the other room to take care of the woman. Chrys could no longer see them, but she heard shattering glass, then a silence that made her blood run cold.

The man stood and held a hand to his head, staring at the door, eyes wide.

“Sam!” Chrys called, “He’s up!”

Suddenly, the demon was flung against the wall. Chrys paled, and she felt her heart stutter.  _ Sam did that with his mind. _

“Wait your turn.”

***

It felt like a long time later, but was probably only a few minutes when Sam came back in. When he did, Chrys felt her heart stutter again.

His shirt was torn, and there was blood smeared on his face. “Sam?”

He looked down at her, his chest heaving, an indefinable emotion in his eyes. “Sammy?”

He reached down and snapped the chain attaching to her handcuff to the pipe. Chrys gasped, a little nervous, then looked up at him. She stood slowly, her back pressed against the wall, that dangerous, unstable air still rampant around him. He looked like a leashed predator.

She met his hazel eyes, and they looked feral to her. “Sam?” She whispered, trying to get through to him.

He stepped forward, crowding her against the wall without touching her. “Are you scared of me, Chrys?”

_ Little bit.  _ She took in a deep breath and met his gaze again. “No.”

He smirked. “Good.”

He grabbed her by the hips and shoved her hard against the wall. She gasped, and her hands went to his arms, her fingers flexing on his hard biceps. She looked up at him, heat spearing down through her and making her tremble.

Suddenly, all of the wanting she had had for anything else switched focus to Sam. She wanted him, she wanted every part of him, any part of him she could get, she wanted all of him.

He was pressing light kisses down her jaw, his hands kneading her hips hard. She could feel some of the blood from his lips smearing on her skin, and while most of her was upset, the dark part of her was rejoicing. That was the part of Chrys that had her whimpering low in her throat and pressing into him.

“Did that turn you on, beautiful?” he husked against her.

“I… I don’t know.” She said honestly, even as she arched into him.

He hummed against her neck, nuzzling her gently, smearing blood at the same time. “Did it turn you on to see me kill those demons, beautiful? To see how much power I have?”

His words were sending lazy, sensual heat into her belly, and in between her thighs. Her breathing was ragged, and she was digging her fingers into him. “Oh, fuck, um… Yes.”

He stopped. “Yes,  _ what?” _

She whimpered and pressed into him harder. “Yes,  _ sir.” _

He kissed her hard, the growl deep in his chest making her dizzy. She gasped and pressed up into him, tasting blood, her arms moving up to wrap around his neck.

One of his hands started gathering her skirt and pulling it up. Simultaneously, he pulled away to press his lips to her ear. “Legs open for me, baby.”

She moaned. “Yes, sir,” she whispered as she spread her legs for him, she would always spread for Sam.

He hummed his approval, and his other hand moved to her neck, fingers splayed on one side and his thumb under her jaw, tilting her head up to press his lips against her neck. “Good girl,” he murmured against her, as his fingers finally found her core.

He moved in lazy circles on her clit, making her arch and whimper, “Oh,  _ Sam.” _

He pressed his lips to her temple as he moved his fingers through her slick heat, sinking one into her slowly. She cried out, arching into him. “God, you’re such a good girl, do you think you can come for me?”

She moaned and nodded, her hips moving in sync with his hand, gasping when he slipped another finger in with the first. “Oh,  _ fuck, _ yes!”

His thumb moved to her clit, putting firm pressure there and sending her higher and higher. Her fingernails dug into his arms, writhing against the wall. He still held her neck with one hand, and he put firm pressure there, too, making her eyes roll back in her head in arousal.

“Come, Chrys, come for me right now, baby,” he snarled in her ear.

She opened her mouth and shrieked as she came, her hips bucking hard and her vision going white. He kept his fingers moving in her, prolonging her orgasm, making it hard to catch her breath. “Oh, Sam, please, I can’t, please-”

“Shh,” he purred in her ear, “shh, yes you can, sweetheart.”

She moaned and shook her head, grinding the back of her head into the wall behind her. “Sam, please, I-”

“Shh, Chrys, you can, beautiful, and I want to get you there,” he growled low, sending more heat and wanting deep into her. “I do, I want you in my mouth for days, I want to watch you sweat and move and beg underneath me for  _ days, _ baby, but I don’t think we have time.”

The sound of his zipper was cutting through her haze, and she realized that his fingers were no longer in her. She whimpered and put her hands on his shoulders, using the leverage he gave her by leaning into her to lift her legs and wrap them around his waist. “Oh, God, yes, yes,  _ fuck me!” _

He slammed her against the wall and pressed his cock against her entrance. “I’ll give the orders, beautiful,” he said roughly. “Now, tell me you want me.”

She moaned and tried to move her hips onto him. “I want you, sir.”

He moved into her just a fraction, and she tried harder to move against his strength to pull him deeper. He gave a dark chuckle that reverberated through her. “Good girl, you’re so good, fuck, Chrys.”

She looked up at him, and saw some of her Sam, her caring, gentle giant. “Sam?” She whispered, placing a hand on his face.

He pressed his forehead to hers, keeping her gaze. “This is going to be bad, beautiful, this is going to-”

She went up and kissed him gently, stopping his warning with her lips, ignoring the blood there. “Shh, it’s okay, Sammy, I want this. I want  _ you.” _

He growled and slammed into her, a savage light coming into his eyes when she screamed. He set a brutal, bruising pace, and Chrys was balanced on the edge between pleasure and pain as he pounded into her.

His fingers dug into her hips, and she felt an ache start between her legs at the assault on her. There was also pleasure crashing through her, her legs were spasming, and she was screaming herself hoarse.

“Ah, God,  _ fuck, _ baby, you’re so good. Give me one more, Chrys, come for me one more time.”

She was whimpering and writhing, and suddenly she was shattered into a million pieces as she came, ecstasy making her scream again. He didn’t stop, and neither did her orgasm, so she leaned up and bit him hard on the shoulder, growling, marking him as hers. And when she tasted a trace of his blood, she kept her teeth where they were and tightened her legs around his waist, claiming him.

He growled and somehow, impossibly, rammed into her harder. Then he came down and bit her on the neck hard, but not hard enough to break skin, not enough to draw blood. Which told her that her Sam was starting to come back.

He came with a low roar, his rhythm stuttering and giving her one more hard, painful thrust, never breaking his hold on her neck with his teeth. She sighed and let his shoulder go, replacing her mouth with her forehead resting there.

His hands were on her face, and he was feathering kisses across her cheeks. “Fuck, Chrys, I’m so sorry, oh, God, beautiful-”

She didn’t realize what he was talking about until she felt the wetness on her cheeks and realized that she was softly sobbing.

***

“You're not hungry, Dean, because inside, you're already… Dead.”

_ Tell me something I don’t know, _ Dean snarked internally, mind whirling as he tried to figure out a way out of this.  _ Need to get Cass out of here, need to get back to Sam and Chrys. _   


“Let him go.”

Dean turned, his eyes settling on Sam. There was blood smeared on his younger brother’s face, and Sam looked… Guilty?

Famine smiled. “Sam.”

Panic welled in Dean. “Sammy, no!”

Two of the demons guarding Famine stepped forward to attack Sam, but were interrupted by Famine’s shout. “Stop! No one lays a finger on this sweet little boy. Sam, I see you got the snack I sent you.”

Dean frowned, dread heavy on his chest, and looked at his brother. Guilt and confusion were warring on Sam’s face.  _ “You _ sent?”

“Don't worry. You're not like everyone else. You'll never die from drinking too much. You're the exception that proves the rule. Just the way… Satan wanted you to be. So,” Famine waved his hands at the five demons standing around him. “Cut their throats. Have at them!”   
  
“Sammy, no!” Dean shouted again.   
  
“Please, be my guest.”

Dean watched in horror as Sam lifted his hand, closes his eyes, and pulled all five demons from their meatsuits at once. The black smoke pooled on the floor and stayed there.

“No,” Sam said coldly, lowering his hand to the floor. Dean wondered where his brother had found all this restraint, and a splinter of ice lodged it’s way into his heart.   
  
“Well… Fine,” Famine said cheerfully. “If you don't want them… Then I'll have them.”

The smoke poured into the horseman's mouth, and Dean’s stomach churned. He watched as Sam stepped forward and extended his hand toward Famine.

Famine chuckled. “I'm a Horseman, Sam. Your power doesn't work on me.”

Sam nodded. “You're right. But it will work on them.” Black smoke and white lights alike poured out of Famine’s mouth while the horseman screamed. Famine slumped in his chair, dead. Dean looked at Sam, whose nose was bleeding, then to Cass, who had just stopped stuffing his face.

Sam stepped forward to get Famine's ring when a thought occurred to Dean. He frowned. “Sam, Where’s Chrys?”

Sam winced. “She’s, uh, outside. Listen, Dean-”

The guilt on his brother’s face was enough to have Dean running out the door of the restaurant they were standing in.

He found Chrys leaning against the door of the Impala, and he saw red. There was a huge bruise on the side of her neck, her face was puffy from crying, there were still tears standing in her eyes, and the way she was leaning against the car told him  _ exactly _ where else she was hurt.

“That motherfucker,” he breathed out, approaching her slowly.

She smiled. “Dean, I’m all right-”

He put a gentle hand on the side of her face, his heart breaking a little. Chrys was too tough to react this way to… Anything. “Did he rape you, Chrys? Tell me the truth, God dammit,” he snapped gently when she opened her mouth, fury washing through him.

She smiled wryly. “No, Dean, he didn’t. I just… It was just rough.”

He examined her closely, searching for any sign of lying. When he didn’t find any, he pressed his lips to her forehead, eyes closing in relief. He then knelt and gently took her into his arms. “All right, let’s go home. You’re in the front seat, Summers.”

***

Sam was laying on the bed in the panic room, holding Chrys next to him. She had blatantly refused to let him stay in the panic room alone, no matter how angry Dean had been. So Castiel had been the one to silently lock them into the panic room, condemning Sam with his eyes.

Not that Sam needed it. The guilt was suffocating him, even more than the withdrawal, he could barely think around it. Ironically, only Chrys was able to alleviate it, by being there, wrapped in his arms, her head resting on his sweaty, shaking shoulder.

But she hadn’t been able to  _ walk _ when they had left the motel room. He’d carried her the whole way into Bobby’s house, even carrying her into the panic room and setting her on the bed. Castiel had tried, but hadn’t been able to heal her, so here she was, stuck with Sam, who felt like an abusive rapist, but couldn’t stop clinging to her.

“Ugh, Sam, if you don’t stop feeling guilty, I’m gonna get Dean to give me a gun.”

He started a little, then chuckled sadly. “Sorry, I-”

She put a hand on his chest and used it to sit up a little bit. “Sorry? Is that really what you wanted to say, Sammy?”

He smiled and ran a hand through her hair. “Chrys…”

She held her hand up. “God dammit, stop it. I’m an adult, Sam. I consented, I knew what I was getting into.”

He frowned. “I don’t see how.”

She smiled and patted his chest, then laid back down. “It’s like Mama said, Sam. The darkness in you is speaking to the darkness in me.” She yawned hugely, making him smile. “Now shut up, and maybe we can sleep through the worst of your withdrawal.”

He sighed and kept his hand in her hair. “Chrys, you don’t have to stay here with me.”

“Where else would I be?”

***

The bite mark on Chrys’s neck faded in about a day.

It took her two days before she could stand without Sam’s arm wrapped around her waist.

It took a week and a half for her to walk without limping.

It took much, much longer for Sam to stop feeling shitty about hurting her, especially when she never complained, or blamed him, or got mad. She just reassured him that she was okay, that she had consented, and that she wasn’t upset. He didn’t know how the hell it had happened, but she had already forgiven him.

The bite mark on his own shoulder took a couple weeks to heal, but he didn’t say a word about it. Chrys’s eyes flicked to it every once in a while when they went to bed, and she didn’t say anything about it, either, but her eyes would heat up with a possessive light.

Sam didn’t particularly mind it, either. The permanent mark of her claim, of her doling out a little of the pain he had inflicted on her. He just carried it, and didn’t ever say out loud that he kind of liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In the middle of this chapter, for some reason, I fell in love with it. I freaking LOVE this chapter of Sam and Chrys's story, it's probably my favorite part so far.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	21. See You in the Next Life

Chrys lay awake next to Sam in their motel room, unable to sleep, but unwilling to sacrifice the warmth she was wrapped in to go outside.

It had been a long couple of days. Bobby’s dead wife, a town full of goddamn zombies, the message Death had sent the older hunter. It had been exhausting, and she had just been a background character. The guys were  _ invested, _ she couldn’t imagine what it had been like for them.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by his strong arm tightening itself around her waist and pulling her snug against him. He buried his face in her hair, and she couldn’t help the smile on her lips. “Chrys,” he murmured, “Why are you still awake?”

She cuddled back into him, giving in to the moment of weakness. “Because I can’t sleep.”

He huffed out a laugh and nuzzled her neck. “Smartass.”

She smiled and tilted her head back. “You like it.”

She felt him smile against her, then listened as his breathing deepened again as he fell back asleep. Gradually, his warmth against her back and the gentle movements of his chest sent her into sleep, too.

***

Sam tensing behind her woke Chrys up. She kept her eyes closed and remained still, ears straining to hear what was going on.

“Sit up. You, too, ma’am.”

She carefully sat up, and put her hands in the air as soon as she saw the gun. She glanced over at Sam, who was glowering at the masked men holding them there at gunpoint.

The man standing in front of Dean’s bed suddenly spoke up. “Looking for this?” He asked as he emptied the cartridge out of Dean’s handgun and tossed it aside.

Dean slowly sat up, eyes flicking to Sam and Chrys before facing the men in front of them and holding his hands up, too. “Mornin’,” he drawled.

“Shut up,” the man in front of his bed snapped. Chrys glared, trying to tamp down her temper.  _ Don’t yell at men with guns pointed at you. _

Dean squinted at him. “Wait a minute. Is that you, Roy? It is, isn’t it?” He turned to the other man with a bitter smile. “Which makes you Walt. Hiya, Walt.”

The men looked at one another, then Walt removed his mask. “Don’t matter.” Roy removed his mask, too.

Dean smiled again. “Well, is it just me, or do you two seem a tad upset?”

Walt was glaring at Sam. “You think you can flip the switch on the Apocalypse and just walk away, Sam?”

Chrys rolled her eyes. “Ugh, this shit again. Do you people ever let things go?”

Sam just stared at Walt. “Who told you that?”

“We ain’t the only hunters after you,” Walt replied, pumping the shotgun. “See you in the next life.” Chrys rolled her eyes again.  _ All hunters are drama queens. I owe Sammy an apology. _   
  
“Hear me out,” Sam spurted. “I can explain, okay? Please.”

Walt paused, then shot Sam in the chest. Chrys cried out as agony spilled through her, and darkness enveloped her.

***

“Wake up, Chrysanthemum.”

Lucifer’s cold, smooth voice washed over her, lighting up some of her senses, and making others quake in fear.

She opened her eyes to find herself on her back in the motel room. She sat up slowly, a dull pulse of pain still in her head. When she looked over, her eyes widened at Sam’s body cooling in the bed next to her. She screamed a little and scrambled to her feet, only to see Dean’s body on the other bed. “What the fuck?”

“Don’t fret, Chrysanthemum, it’s unbecoming on such a lovely woman.” Lucifer said softly. She turned to see him leaning against the wall. “They’ll be back soon.”

She tried to look collected as she faced him. “What the  _ fuck, _ Luci?”

He smiled. “Your Winchesters are learning a lesson. They’re learning that God doesn’t care what happens, that He won’t interfere. It’s a lesson He’s taught them before, but I’m betting they’ll be allowed to remember it this time.”

She blinked. “What?”

He smiled and pushed himself off the wall, and she fought not to take a step back. “What are you doing here?” She asked instead.

He suddenly looked… Uncomfortable?  _ That can’t be right. _

“I felt your pain. I came to block it… Until Sammy comes back.”

“It’s Sam,” she corrected evenly, her mind working fast. “You came… To block the pain?”

He nodded, his eyes on hers. “Yes. It… Causes me discomfort when you are in pain, Chrysanthemum.”

She didn’t know what the hell she was supposed to do with that. So she ignored it, and instead asked, “What happened to Roy and Walt?” Her temper snarled at her. “I have  _ words _ for Roy and Walt.”

As she turned to look for her gun, his words stopped her. “The men who threatened you have been taken care of.”

She paused and turned back to him. “What?”

He smiled coldly. “I’ve… Attended to them.”

She closed her eyes against the memories washing through her. “Luci, we’ve talked about this.”

***

_ Chrys walked home, arms wrapped around her middle, fuming. Underneath, of course, was sadness so big it was struggling wildly to get out. But crying made them mock you even more. Anger meant fighting back. _

_ And Chrys had always  _ loved _ the idea of fighting back. _

_ “Stupid little cunt,” she whispered, relishing the way the word felt on her fourteen-year-old tongue. _

_ Rain started to come down, just cementing the atmosphere for her mood. “Shit.” _

_ She walked faster and ducked her head down. Mama usually made some sort of vegan stew on rainy days, and as much as Chrys hated vegan food, and vegans for that matter, it sounded comforting after the day she’d had. _

_ She just had to get through explaining that her books had been stolen and strewn across the front lawn of the school, so she would have to buy new ones. She had to get through telling her parents that Tammy fucking Pastin, a snotty girl in her class, had found the cuts on her arms, and had immediately started in on her. She had to get through explaining that Tammy had  _ started _ the stupid fight, so Chrys had had no choice but to finish it. _

_ She had to get through telling Mama and Dad that she was, once again, suspended from school. _

_ She was shaken from her reverie by a gentle throat clearing. _

_ She gasped and whirled to see a short, whip-thin man standing behind her. “Um… Can I help you?” _

_ He smiled, and she was not comforted. “Miss Summers, the Dark Prince sent me to find out what you’d like done with one Miss Pastin.” _

_ Chrys blinked. “Huh?” _

_ “Lucifer, dear. He would like to know how you want to dispose of Miss Pastin. The girl who caused you so much… Distress.” _

_ She frowned. “I’m fourteen. Everyone causes me distress.” Fear gripped her. “Wait, do you  _ have _ her?” _

_ He nodded. “Yes, miss.” _

_ Shock resounded through her. “Well, let her go!” _

_ Now he was frowning, too. “Miss, I-” _

_ “Look, I don’t care what that bastard wants,” she snapped. “Just let her go!” She spun on her heels and walked away, mad and scared and trying desperately not to give in to the urge to sprint all the way home. _

_ *** _

_ The next day, Chrys knew as soon as she walked into the school building what Lucifer had done. _

_ She dealt with the whispers and the dark looks and the more than usual isolation in the hallways. _

_ She dealt with her first period teacher being much kinder to her than the norm. _

_ She dealt with the school counselor pulling her out of class and explaining that just because they had a fight, Tammy’s suicide was not Chrys’s fault. _

_ But Chrys know it wasn’t suicide. Just as she knew it  _ was _ her fault. _

_ Lucifer had killed Tammy Pastin for her. _

***

Chrys sighed and ran a hand through her hair, shaking the memories away. “You can’t just kill people because they… Don’t play nice with me, Lucifer. It’s awful.” She frowned. “And no one plays nice with me, I’m bitchy.”

He smiled, and she hated the way her heart beat faster for the fallen archangel. “Actually, I can, Chrysanthemum. I’m the devil. And those men pointed guns at you. They had the audacity to want to  _ kill _ you.”

She ran a hand down her face. “Luci, they wanted to kill me because of  _ you.” _ Inexplicably, she missed Sam fiercely, his even temper and his warmth and his  _ unwillingness to kill people who irritated her. _

She examined Lucifer, taking in the big hunks of raw skin showing up, the open sores starting to form. She frowned. “You look like shit.”

He nodded and put a hand to his face. “Yes, Nick… Isn’t holding up like I had hoped.”

She glared at him. “He’s not an old coat, Luci, he isn’t ‘not holding up.’ He’s a human being, he’s dying. A human being who, I’m sure, you tricked into being your vessel.”

Lucifer smirked. “I never lied, Chrysanthemum. Nick knew what he was saying yes to.”

She rolled her eyes. “You rarely do, and I sincerely doubt that.”

He looked up. “Our boys are on their way back.”

She glared again.  _ “My _ boys, Luci. Not ‘ours.’”

He smirked back at her again. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He crooked a finger at her. “Come give me a goodbye kiss, Chrysanthemum.”

She fought it. She battled harder than she had ever fought against the undeniable need to obey Sam. In the end, Lucifer won.

In the end, Lucifer  _ always _ won.

She stepped forward to press her lips against his cold ones, the dark part of her rejoicing and the rest of her disgusted and sad. It didn’t stop her from whimpering against his mouth and pressing her hands to his chest, but she clung to those negative feelings.

In a blink, he was gone, and Sam and Dean were waking up with huge gasps of air.

***

Later, at a different motel, with a better lock on the door, Chrys sat next to Sam on the bed, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Dean had gone out for beer, and to get away from Sam, she suspected.

“And the amulet he threw away, he’s worn it for… God, twenty years? I gave it to him for Christmas when we were kids.” Sam’s voice was thick with emotion as he explained what they’d witnessed in heaven.

She leaned into him. “That sounds… Hard.”  _ Smooth, Summers. _ She wasn’t good at comforting people. She really was better at telling them off.

He nodded and squeezed her. “I guess… I mean, I don’t understand why he’s  _ so _ upset. I knew he would be mad, I just didn’t realize how mad.”

She leaned away and looked up at him incredulously. “Seriously, Sam? You didn’t  _ know?” _ At his confused look, she rolled her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples.  _ “Men. _ I can’t deal with this.”

“What are you talking about?”

She took a deep breath and looked back up at his big handsome face. “Sam, for fuck’s sake, you were the  _ only _ thing he had. You were what he hung his hat on. You were…  _ Are… _ His world. And all you wanted to do since you were a teenager was leave. And then, to have it rubbed in his face like that…” She sighed. “Sam, just give him some time, okay? He’ll come back around.”

He looked upset, and she leaned back into him as he spoke hesitantly. “Uh… Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

***

That night, lying on his back with Chrys’s head on his chest, Sam couldn’t get her words out of his head.

_ You were the  _ only _ thing he had. You were what he hung his hat on. _

Was she right? Did he abandon Dean? He had never thought of it that way, he had always assumed that Dean had wanted to stay with their father. But what if he hadn't? What if Sam had left the only person on who was really on his team with their father?

“I swear to Christ, Sam, the less you sleep, the less I sleep, and the meaner I get,” she whispered fiercely. She looked up at him, and he took just a second to appreciate the sight of her lying on him, her long hair spilled across his shoulder. “What is going on in that pretty head, Sammy?”

“Just, uh, nothing.”

She scoffed. “You’re an idiot. Just tell me, all right? So we can go to sleep, and I can get the required amount of rest to be moderately pleasant tomorrow.”

Instead, he pulled her up to lay on top of him and ran his hand through her hair. “Tell me what happened to you instead. I just realized I never even asked.”

She chuckled. “No, you did not, you inconsiderate fuck.” She pressed a kiss to his chest. “I mean, it’s not like you had stuff going on or anything.”

He chuckled. “Come on, how was your day, honey?”

She laughed softly. “Well, let’s see.” She counted on one of her slender hands. “First, the two men whom I quite literally require to survive got shot not six inches from me.”

Sam frowned. “Yeah, what happened? How are you alive?”

She looked down at him. “Uh… Lucifer. Lucifer came... To save me.”

Shock resounded through him.  _ “What?” _

At his whispered shout, Dean stirred in the bed next to them. Chrys’s soft finger pressed itself against his lips, and they watched until he was still again. Sam was glad, Dean was already mad enough at him, for what he’d done to Chrys after Famine, for what they’d seen in heaven… For everything.

Once his brother had settled back into sleep, Sam turned back to the woman on his chest. She was staring at him solemnly. “Can you be quiet?” she whispered. He nodded against her, and she smiled a little and pulled her hand away. “Okay. Yes, Lucifer came to save me from the pain I was in. He killed Roy and Walt. He, uh… He does that,” she said softly, looking down again. “Kills people for me, sometimes, no matter what I tell him to do.”

He frowned. “So, he came and killed them? What else?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, but he saw the bitterness and pain in her face. “The standard visit from my intended. Told me that he’ll win, gave me a backhanded compliment, insulted you guys, kissed me, and left.”

Jealous fury rose in Sam’s chest at the thought of Lucifer’s hands on her, and he struggled to keep his voice even. “He… He kissed you?”

She met his eyes. “Yeah, he usually does.”

_ “Usually?” _

She rolled her eyes. “Sam, chill. Yes, he kisses me. He’s kind of a possessive bastard. In case you hadn’t caught on, you know,  _ from the soulmate thing.” _

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to calm the fire raging in his chest. “Right, uh… Right.”

The smirk in her voice made his eyes pop open. “Are you jealous?”

He glared at her. “Of course not!”

She grinned. “You are, too. Ha!” She put a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles.

He smiled, but anger was still coursing through him. A million thoughts were racing in his mind, most of them furious and homicidal, those pointed at Lucifer. He was also concerned, because he knew that Lucifer scared Chrys, no matter how brave a front she put on. And he was… Jealous. Because no matter how much Lucifer scared her, there was some sort of connection there that Sam suspected he would never understand.

She was examining his face, and he hers. She put a soft hand on his cheek, and he leaned into it a little, turning to place a kiss in the middle of her palm.

“It’s not… It’s not the same, Sam,” she whispered. “It doesn’t mean the same thing as it does with you.”

He blinked, his fury stalled by her words. “What?”

She looked at him for a long time, and he looked back, sensing the importance of the moment. Sadness filled her eyes, and he found himself unable to stop from cupping her cheek and pulling her toward him to press his lips to hers.

She kissed him back gently, then pulled back. “He doesn’t mean what you mean, Sam. To me, he doesn’t mean what you mean to me.”

“And what do I mean to you, beautiful?” he asked hoarsely, some part of him roaring in his chest for her answer.

Instead, she smiled and pecked him on the lips again. “That, I think, is a conversation for after the apocalypse.”

***

_ Everything, you big idiot, you mean everything to me. _

***

_ That’s not what I wanted you to say. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Writer's block is a real, terrible thing.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	22. You Haunt Me

Chrys was sitting at a laundromat table, watching Sam bend over in front of a washing machine while she pretended to work. She was doing yet  _ more _ research, digging into deeper and more arcane knowledge and texts, trying to find a way to stop the apocalypse. They’d been at it for two days, since the boys had come back from heaven.

Dean had been silent and angry the entire time. He had booked them two separate rooms without saying a word to Sam. He’d only spoken to Chrys, and that was only to tell her that he was several doors down at the motel.

“Earth to Chrys,” Sam said gently, taking the seat next to her and draping his arm across the back of her chair.

She turned and looked at him. “Sorry, what?”

He smirked and pulled her into him. She went willingly, laying her head on his shoulder. Research was creating a headache at the base of her skull, and his warmth beat it back. 

“I was asking what you want to eat. We can pick it up on the way back to the motel.”

She groaned and closed her eyes. “I don’t care,” she said softly, “My brain feels like jelly, Sammy.”

His deep chuckle soothed her.

***

Sam smiled at the sight of Chrys sleeping on the front seat of Baby, her head resting on his thigh. Her face was pressed into his lower stomach, her hair spread out behind her and draped over his leg.  _ God, she’s gorgeous. _

A plan had started to form in his mind, and he didn’t want her to know about it… He didn’t want to embarrass her. And since he didn’t think saying the words to her would be a good idea, maybe this would tell her without words.

Maybe he could tell her how he felt without saying it out loud.

***

_ He’s in a weird mood. _

Chrys followed Sam to the door of the motel, her arms laden with yet  _ more _ books, her brain still feeling like jelly. She was exhausted, but too keyed up to sleep, so she supposed that more research would be the way to go for now.

She waited for him to open the door, yawning hugely into her shoulder. He turned back and smiled gently at her, then opened the door and stepped aside to let her in.

Her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”   


He looked at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”   


She walked in past him, still eyeing him suspiciously. “Why are you being nice to me?”

He came in after her, shutting the door behind them. “I’m always nice to you.”

She chuckled. “Not this nice, Sammy. I smell something weird in the air.”

She put the books on the table, and as soon as her arms were free, his hands landed on her hips. He used one to sweep her hair over one shoulder and started pressing kisses to the exposed side of her neck. She smirked and tilted her head back, leaning into him. “Ah ha,” she said softly, “I knew it.”

He smiled against her skin. “You’re a smart woman, beautiful.”

She hummed and arched into his hand when it ran up her side and gently cupped one breast. “I’ve always been sought after for my brains.”

He was nipping the spot where her shoulder met her neck, and she whimpered a little. “Oh, Sam…”

He tweaked her nipple, making her gasp as sensation wound its way lazily down to her core. “Shh, beautiful,” he said softly against her ear. “Let me take care of you.”

He turned her in his arms until she was facing him, and she took the opportunity to look up and press soft kisses along his jaw, relishing the stubble there. Her hands ran up from his waist, up his hard stomach, to his chest. He turned his head to catch her mouth with his, kissing her tenderly, the sweetness in his gentle touch making her weak in the knees.

She kissed him back, just glad he was touching her again. They hadn’t had sex since he had taken her in that motel bathroom, under the effects of Famine. Which had, of course, been some of the best sex they’d ever had, even if it  _ should _ have put her in the hospital. 

Castiel had informed her in his dry, no-nonsense way that a woman without the benefit of rapid healing, a gift from Lucifer, would have probably have a broken bone, or at least dislocated hips. And as humiliating as that conversation had been, she had taken a moment to be grateful that she was ultimately fine. She hadn’t realized how rough it had really been.

But she didn’t want to think about angels, Lucifer or Castiel, right now. Not when Sam was  _ finally _ kissing her, after two and a half long weeks of dry pecks on the cheek. Not when he was finally going to touch her again, and he was backing her up toward the bed gently.

She moved her arms up to wrap around his neck, relishing the feel of his hard shoulders. When his hands settled at her hips and began to lift her, her legs automatically began to lift as well, to wrap themselves around his waist.

Before they could, he was laying her back onto the bed. She sighed and just let her legs hug his hips, running her fingers through his hair as he moved to two of them up so she was leaned back against the pillows.

He sat back, and she watched smugly as he reached behind to strip his shirt off.  _ Mine. _

“Chrys,” he said softly, his hands now on her knees, “I want you to let me take care of everything, okay?”

She frowned. “What?”   
  
He leaned over her again, resting his weight on his forearms on either side of her. He pressed his lips to the place where her neck came up to meet her jaw, and she tilted her head, automatically submitting to him. His lips were gentle, as was the hand he had placed on her waist, kneading softly.   
  
“Sam,” she whispered, “I don’t understand…”   
  
He moved up to press his lips against her ear. “I know, beautiful, I just…” He sighed and rested his head on her shoulder. She automatically ran her fingers through his hair, hoping to provide some sort of comfort. “Chrys,” he murmured into her skin, “I  _ stole _ your first time, and then I-“   
  
She rolled her eyes. “Sam, for fuck’s-“   
  
“And then I… Did what I did… In that motel, when Famine… And I… Chrys, I need you to let me do this for you,  _ please.” _ His voice was broken and hoarse, and it tugged at every heartstring she had. She closed her eyes against the storm of emotion in her chest. Still, weeks and weeks and  _ weeks _ after she had forgiven him for not knowing she was a virgin (which was not his fault), and  _ weeks _ after she had forgiven him for that motel bathroom (which, again, she didn’t consider his fault), here he was, her Sam, still begging her to let him make it up to her.   
  
She turned her head to let her lips brush his ear. “If I do,” she whispered, “can this be the end of this? You’ll consider yourself forgiven?”   
  
He moved so he was looking into her eyes, and she fought the almost overwhelming urge to look away from the vulnerability in his. He nodded slowly, whispering, “Yeah, yeah, I can do that.”   
  
She smiled a little, loving him so much she ached with it. “Okay.”   
  
He nodded once and kissed her again, gently, thoroughly. When he ran his tongue along her bottom lip, she opened for him, giving him control when he swept in, exploring her mouth, turning her on in places she hadn’t even known she could be turned on.   
  
He pulled away to lay hot, gentle kisses along her jaw, then down her neck, then down to her collarbone. His soft lips pressed against the bone there, feathering caresses along her clavicle as he gently moved his hand to her waist, slipping his fingers under the hem of her shirt and pulling it up.    
  
He moved fast, forcefully reminding her of how strong he was, how graceful he could be. Before she could blink, he was kneeling in front of her, off the bed. She sat up on her elbows to watch him slowly untie each sneaker, placing them next to the bed once he’d gotten them off, then rolling her short socks off. She fought with her emotions again when he lovingly placed a kiss on the top of each foot before moving to lean over her again.   
  
Then he was kissing her waist, along the strip of flesh he’d exposed when he had pulled her shirt up. She whimpered and arched into him helplessly, wondering mindlessly how he could make her like this without ever actually touching her yet.   
  
He was up to her ribs, just beneath her breasts. He sat up briefly to whip her shirt off, making her gasp, and making her hair spill over her shoulder and spread along her chest.   
  
His eyes were wide when he sat back, devouring her with his hot gaze. He put his hands on her waist again, then slid her skirt off of her. She lifted her hips to help, mesmerized by the look in his eye as he finally got the skirt off of her long legs.

He looked at her for another moment, then ran a hand over his mouth. “Jesus fuck, Chrys, you’re gorgeous.”

Incredibly, she felt a blush rising on her cheeks.  _ The man’s had his tongue inside you, _ she chided herself,  _ stop blushing. Plus, it’s not like he hasn’t said it before. _

But he hadn’t, not like this. Not with that look in his eye, like he was deciding which part of her her to eat first. Not with that reverent undertone, like she was cherished. Not after everything they’d been through, with her healing and with his withdrawal. Not with that new scar on his shoulder, forever marking him as hers.

Not like this.

He’d never called her gorgeous like he was in love with her.

She didn’t know what to say, she didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t good at this, it was uncharted territory. So she sat up just enough to reach for him, needing him on top of her, needing to be pressed against him.

He came willingly, falling upon her, his face pressed against her neck. She whimpered and hugged his waist with her thighs again, tilting her head back to let his stubble set her on fire when he nuzzled her.

He kissed his way down her neck again, making her whimper and squirm beneath him. When he bent to take one nipple into her mouth, her back arched and she cried out, her hands pulling at his hair. “Sam!”

She felt him smile against her, and she moaned again when he sucked hard. He bit down just hard enough to hurt, and her hips bucked up into him, the feeling of his jeans pressed against her core sending her higher. By the time he had paid the same attention to her other breast, she was writhing beneath him, all sense of control lost.

“Sam, please, please, oh, fuck-”

He cut her off by coming back up to kiss her gently, making her whimper and relax against him. His hand moved down her stomach, the callouses and the tenderness making her shiver and move her hips against him. When his fingers finally found her core, she cried out into his mouth, feeling how wet she already was against him. She felt like she was on fire, any common sense or thought of holding back was gone. She was  _ desperate _ for him.

He slid one finger into her easily, then another. He moved them languidly in an out of her, ignoring her desperate attempts to make him move faster. She moaned in frustration.

He moved to whisper in her ear, his hot breath on her skin making her eyes roll back in her head. “Have I ever told you how much I love the noises you make, baby?” He finally picked up the pace, and she tilted her head back and cried out when he started dragging against that magical spot inside her. “Those noises  _ haunt _ me, Chrys,” he said roughly,  _ “you _ haunt me.”

She was bucking wildly into his hand, barely able to catch her breath as his skilled fingers brought her to the brink. When his thumb came in contact with her clit, she tilted her head back and screamed as her orgasm slammed through her. Her legs were trembling and jerking, and she couldn’t seem to stop crying out his name. Instead of covering her mouth, like he usually did, Sam just rested his head on her shoulder and listened as she came.

What seemed like a lifetime later, he pressed a kiss to her cheek, then moved his way down her neck again. When he kissed down to her stomach, she came out of her lust-filled haze enough to realize where he was going.

She stopped him with a gentle hand on his cheek. He looked up at her, and she drowned a little in those gorgeous brown eyes. “Sam,” she said hoarsely, “not tonight, please, I need you.”

He gazed at her for another minute, then nodded. “Okay, beautiful, whatever you want.”

He took his time coming back up to her, pausing to run his teeth over a nipple before he came up to press his lips against hers. She ran her fingers through his hair and fisted them to hold him there, kissing him fiercely, possessively.  _ Mine. _

Her hands moved from his hair down his ridiculously muscled chest, tracing the muscles on his stomach as she made her way to his belt. She undid it slowly, letting him feel every movement as she popped the button on his jeans and pulled his zipper down.

He pulled away from her mouth and pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes closed, his breathing heavy. “Fuck, Chrys.”

“I know,” she said softly as she pulled him free of his boxers, savoring the heavy feel of him in her hand.

He sat up suddenly, then backed up and stood so he could push his jeans to the floor. His eyes never left her, seeming to soak her in. Which was fine with Chrys, because she was soaking him in, too.

That incredible body of Sam’s. His hard chest, his stomach that had everything that made smart girls stupid. His slim hips, his long, strong legs. His broad shoulders, his muscled arms. Those fucking  _ hands, _ which Chrys was pretty damn sure were actually magical.

His strong jaw, covered in stubble. The smirk gracing his lips because he knew she was surveying him, and that she thought he was amazing. Those hot brown eyes, doing the same to her, finding the same conclusion. Chrys had never really felt beautiful until Sam looked at her.

She smiled back at him. “Come back here, handsome,” she said softly.

He crawled up her body slowly, worshipping her. Starting at her ankles, he pressed tiny kisses all the way up her legs. He stopped at her inner thigh to suck a mark into the sensitive flesh, then turned to her core. He nosed her clit, making her jump, and ran his tongue up and down her entrance a few times, tasting her.

He kissed his way up her stomach, stopping to lav the hollow of her hip bones with his tongue, to dip that tongue into her navel, to nibble along her ribs.  By the time he finally,  _ finally, _ made it up to kiss her softly, she was breathless with wanting and pent up emotion.

He nuzzled her neck, his arms coming down on either side of her so he could rest his weight on his forearms. He kissed the place where her neck and shoulder met. “Fuck,  _ Chrys.” _

She nodded wordlessly, running her fingers through his hair.

He lined himself up and pressed into her slowly, so she could feel every moment of him stretching her. She gasped at the sensation, it really had been too long since he’d touched her. The feeling of fullness and being stretched to the limit was starting the heat low in her belly again, along with the way he was whispering in her ear.

“You were right, before, when you said I’d never felt the way I felt about you when I first saw you,” he said softly, distracting her from the feeling in her loins. “God, you were gorgeous, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life. And then you punched me in the face. I couldn’t have been more… Taken, with you, beautiful.”

She whimpered, his words making emotion rise up in her, even as the heat in her core tightened. She wrapped her legs around his waist and looped her arms around his neck, hoping he’d stop talking before she cried, and hoping that he’d  _ never _ stop talking.

“God, you’re perfect,” he continued in that husky, whispered voice, moving in and out of her slowly, lovingly. “The way you move in those damn skirts, your voice, your skin, fuck, Chrys, you’re  _ perfect.” _

She couldn’t take it anymore. She turned her head to catch his lips with hers, shutting her eyes against the tears there. He picked up his rhythm a little, and she moaned, feeling him touch every part of her she’d ever wanted to be touched. He reached one hand down to start a gentle back and forth motion over her clit, making her buck and cry out into his mouth.

_ Fuck, _ she was close, and he was warm and there and  _ Sam, _ saying sweet things to her and being there with her.

She opened her eyes to look at him, wanting to see him when she came, and found him already staring down at her adoringly. There was no hiding the emotions in his eyes, and even if he could hide it normally, he couldn’t hide it from her here, now.

Sam loved her.

She whimpered and touched his face, her heart thudding in her chest as he tilted his head into it. She bit her lip to keep the tears from her eyes, and to keep the noises that were struggling to come out of her in. This was a time for quiet, not for screaming.

He came back down until they were nose-to-nose, his lips brushing hers gently. “I know,” he said softly, “I know, it’s okay, Chrys.”

She couldn’t stop the tears gathering in her eyes. “Sam, I can’t, I don’t… I can’t-”  _ I can’t say I love you. Please don’t make me. _

He shook his head and kissed her gently again. “I know, it’s okay, Chrys, you don’t have to say it. Just let go, come for me, beautiful.”

Her orgasm was gentler this time, but no less intense. It drew out forever, with him still moving inside her until his heat spilled into her, his lips pressed against hers. She held him close, kissing him back, wishing she was a whole person, so she could tell him everything she felt for him.

***

Sam lay on his back, one arm wrapped around Chrys, who was sleeping soundly, the other hand tucked behind his head.

He had wanted to give her first time back. He had wanted it to be sweet and light and fun, and it had turned into them declaring their love for one another without words.

_ Well that… Went well? _

The look in her eyes when he’d looked down at her, when he’d come so close to telling her how he’d felt, was still like a punch in the gut. There had been so many emotions in those wide, wet blue eyes. Love, terror, regret, grief… His woman was a smorgasbord of feelings.

He had never loved her more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	23. She is Fine

Chrys knew the moment she woke up, although she said nothing to Sam about it.

_ It doesn’t really matter, anyway. _

***

“I got one thing, one thing, keeping me going. You think you’re the only one white-knuckling it here, Dean? I can’t count on anyone else. I can’t do this alone.”

Dean shook his head. “You got Chrys, Sam.”

Sam shook his head, too. “Dean.”

Dean stood and grabbed his jacket, and Chrys rolled her eyes from where she was on the bed.  _ Half of this bullshit wouldn’t happen if they just talked to each other… _

“I gotta clear my head,” Dean said evenly, shrugging his jacket on as he walked toward the door. Chrys stood to follow him.

Sam frowned. “It’s past curfew.”

Dean walked out the door anyway. Chrys brushed Sam’s hand with hers. “I’ll find him, Sam.”

He was frowning as she walked out, too. “But it’s past the curfew!”

She ignored him to shut the door behind her. Dean was walking toward the Impala. “Dean!”

He turned to stare evenly at her as she caught up. Dean was worrying her. He was still surly and quiet, but he’d been that way since she’d known him, so that wasn’t her concern. What was starting to scare her was the look in his bright green eyes. It was the haunted, empty look of someone who was on the verge of giving up. It was a look that Chrys was intimately familiar with.

She came to stand in front of him. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please. For two men who run scams for a living, you’re  _ terrible _ liars.” She tried to catch his gaze, but he wouldn’t look at her. “Dean,” she said softly, “What’s going on?”

He opened the door to the Impala. “Nothing, Chrys, drop it.”

She shook her head. “No.”

He slammed the door shut, started the car, and drove away, leaving her there to fume.

_ Idiot. _

***

When she got back into the motel room, the sound of wings alerted her to the fact that Castiel had just arrived.

The angel was leaning against the wall and staring at Sam. “I got your message. It was long, your message. And I find the sound of your voice grating.”

Chrys chuckled and came to stand next to the angel as Sam stared. “What’s wrong with you? Are you… Drunk?”

“No!” Castiel scoffed. He went to stand, but started to fall. Chrys caught him easily, still smirking. “I think yes,” she said evenly.

Cass turned to look at her, blinking. Her eyes widened as she realized  _ why _ he was looking at her. “Chrysanthemum, you-”

“It’s Chrys, Castiel,” she snapped quickly, glaring at him.

“What the hell happened to you?” Sam asked, eyeing both of them.

Castiel turned back to the tall hunter, seeming to have forgotten her, to her great relief. “I found a liquor store.”

Chrys wrinkled her nose. “And drank it, by the smell of you.”

The angel nodded sadly. “Why did you call me?”

He went to take a step forward, but stumbled, almost taking Chrys with him. She felt a beat of real fear, but Sam caught them before they could go down.

“Woah, there you go. Easy. Are you okay?”

Cass glared. “Don’t ask stupid questions. Tell me what you need.”

Chrys answered, “There have been demon attacks. Massive, right on the edge of town. And we can’t figure out why they’re-”

“Any sign of angels?” Castiel interrupted.

“Sort of. They’ve been speaking to this prophet.”

Cass frowned. “Who?”

“This girl, Leah Gideon,” Sam said uncertainly.

“She’s not a prophet,” Castiel replied evenly.

Chrys frowned. “Pretty sure she is. Visions, headaches, the whole package.”

The angel shook his head. “The names of all the prophets, they’re seared into my brain. Leah Gideon is not one of them.”

***

A few hours later, Chrys was stewing on the bed when the door opened to present Dean. She glared at him. “We went out looking for…” She trailed off as she saw the blood splattered on his clothes. She stood, concerned. “Are you okay?”

He looked at her, a little out of it. “Yeah, it’s… It’s not my blood. Paul’s dead.”

_ “What?!” _ She asked, remembering the kind bartender.

Dean nodded as Sam walked in. “Jane shot him.”

Sam frowned. “Shot who?”

“Paul.”

Sam winced. “Fuck.”

“It’s starting,” Castiel said from the couch.

Dean frowned at him. “What’s starting? And where the fuck have you been?”

“On a bender,” Cass snapped. Chrys chuckled.

Dean’s eyebrows went up. “Did he… Did you say ‘on a bender?’”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. He’s still pretty smashed.”

“It is not of import. We need to talk about what’s happening here.”

Dean stared at them for another moment, then shrugged. “Well, I’m all ears.”

“Well, for starters,” Chrys began, “Leah’s not a real prophet.

He frowned. “Well, what is she, exactly?”

“The whore,” Castiel deadpanned.

Dean’s eyebrows went up again. “Wow, Cass, tell us what you really think.”

The angel shot Dean a bitchface. “She rises when Lucifer walks the earth. ‘And she shall come, bearing false prophecy.’ This creature has the power to take a human’s form, read minds. Book of Revelation calls her ‘the Whore of Babylon.’”

Dean sighed. “Well, that’s catchy.”

Sam nodded. “The real Leah was probably killed months ago.”

Dean looked at Chrys. “What about the demons attacking the town.?”

She shrugged, confused as why he was asking  _ her. _ “They’re under her control. The Enochian exorcism isn’t real, either.”

Castiel started chuckling. “It actually means, ‘you, um, breed with the mouth of a goat.’” At their blank stares, he sobered. “It’s funnier in Enochian.”

“So the demons smoking out, that’s just a con? Why? What’s the endgame?”

“What you just saw, innocent blood spilled in God’s name.”   


Sam nodded. “You heard all that heaven talk. She manipulates people.”

Chrys smiled bitterly. “To slaughter and kill and sing preppy little hymns.”   
  
“Her goal is to condemn as many souls to hell as possible” Castiel informed them dryly. “And it’s… Just beginning. She’s well on her way to dragging this whole town into the pit.”   
  
Dean nodded. “Alright. So, then, how do we go Pimp of Babylon all over this bitch?”

Castiel disappeared, and Chrys frowned. “That is annoying as fuck.”

Sam nodded and came to stand next to her. He snaked an arm around her waist, and she leaned into him, jumping when Cass appeared again. “God dammit, Castiel,” she snapped, “Cut that shit out.”

He gave her a long, even look that shut her right the hell up.  _ Fucking angels. _

He placed a wooden stake on the table in front of them. “The whore can be killed with that. It’s a stake made from a cypress tree in Babylon.”

Dean nodded. “Great. Let’s ventilate her.”

Castiel shook his head. “It’s not that easy.”

Dean threw his hands in the air. “‘Course not.”

Cass met each of their gazes, finally ending with Chrys’s. “The whore can only be killed by a true servant of heaven.”

Chys frowned. “Meaning…”

“Not Dean. Or me. Sam, of course, is an abomination.”

Chrys frowned. “Hey!”

Sam squeezed her tighter as Cass looked at her. “Don’t worry, Chrys,” the angel said softly, “You’re an abomination, too.  You... Will be abominations together.”

_ I’m going to kill him. _

***

“This was a clusterfuck,” Chrys said softly, slinging Castiel’s arm over her own shoulders and hoisting him to his feet. They had just watched Dean, somehow now good enough to kill the demon who had taken Leah’s face, stake the Whore of Babylon.

He nodded blearily. “It did not go smoothly.” He blinked at her, then tried to stand on his own. She rolled her eyes and caught him again. “Chrys, you shouldn’t-”

“Shut  _ up, _ Castiel,” she hissed, looking ahead to make sure that Sam and Dean hadn’t heard as they helped Pastor Gideon up the stairs. “Just… Just shut up, all right?”

“You do not want Sam to know,” he stated as they started up the stairs.

“No, I don’t,” she said evenly, “So shut your goddamn trap.”

He nodded, and they were silent for a few moments. Timidly, unsure if she wanted the answer, “Can you, um…” She swallowed hard and made sure again that the Winchesters were out of earshot. “Can you tell if it’s healthy? I mean, it’s early, I think it’s only been a few days-”

“She,” he murmured softly. “She is fine, and she’s four days old.”

_ The night I realized Sam loves me. _ Chrys blinked her tears back, struggling to control her emotions. “Oh.”

***

They were back at the motel, and Sam was watching Chrys like a hawk.

She was acting weird. She kept staring off into space, and acting like she didn’t know what to do with her hands. On top of that, he thought she was avoiding him. He was worried it was as a result of their night of… Whatever it had been. He’d thought he’d finally told her how he felt about her, and that she’d felt the same way, but her behavior now was making him question that.

He was shaken from his thoughts by Dean handing a bag of ice to Pastor Gideon. “How’s the head?”

The father winced. “I’m seeing double. But that may be the painkillers.”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “You’ll be okay.”

The man sobered. “No.”

Dean shrugged and started away. Chrys sat next to the pastor and was speaking quietly to him as Sam turned to watch his brother. “Where are you going?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m just gonna grab some clean bandages out of the trunk,  _ relax.” _

Sam frowned and watched Dean walk out. He turned back to see Chrys holding the pastor’s hand, a sympathetic look on her face. He felt his heart beat faster, watching her comfort the man.

The sound of the Impala’s engine had him whirling and running out the door. When he got out, the only thing he saw was Dean speeding away.

“Dean!  _ Dean!” _

***

“Sam, it’s gonna be fine.”

Chrys watched him clench his jaw, and wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

He opened his mouth to snap at her, but she interrupted him. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, forget I said anything.”

She turned to look out the window of the stolen car they were driving. She had known that Dean was going to pull something like this, but there hadn’t been any point in trying to stop him. He had made the decision before they even got to the town with the Whore of Babylon.

And there wasn’t any point, anyway. Chrys didn’t know how this was going to work, and she was struggling to keep her faith in the Winchesters. But… Lucifer was going to win. It broke her heart, for more reasons than one, now, but she knew it. He was going to win, Sam was going to say yes, and there was going to be a showdown. Maybe Michael would be wearing Dean, maybe he would be wearing someone else, but it was going to happen. She knew it, she could feel it,  _ Lucifer was going to win. _

“I know it will be all right, Chrys,” Sam said softly. “I know Dean pretty damn well. I know where he’s going.”

She nodded, keeping her gaze out the window, her hand falling absent-mindedly to her belly.

“Are you okay?”

She turned and looked at him. “What? Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

He stared at her for a moment, then turned his eyes back to the road. “I don’t know, you’re acting weird. And you’re holding your stomach.”

She felt her eyes widen and she turned to the front, her hand flying down to her side. “Yeah, yeah. Just, uh… Nervous.”

He nodded and put his big hand on her thigh. She jumped a little, then relaxed as his warmth sank into the spot. “All right, beautiful. Just making sure.”

She smiled and placed her hand on his, threading her fingers through his big ones. “Thanks, Sammy.”

***

Sam watched Chrys get ready for bed after they’d found Dean and subdued him, suspicion still stirring in his heart. She was acting weird, and had been all night. He thought maybe it would get better once they got to Bobby’s, but so far, she was still being strange.

They were in the bedroom they shared when they were at Bobby’s. She pulled on one of his t-shirts, pulling her hair out of the collar and pulling her toothbrush out of her bag with the other hand. He frowned. “All right, what’s going on with you?”

She blinked. “What?”

He stood and walked toward her. “What gives? You sleep naked, Chrys.”

She blinked again, then looked down at herself. She looked at him and shrugged, but the blush rising on her cheeks gave her away. “It’s cold, Sam. Shut up.”

He chuckled and stepped forward, almost closing the gap between them. He reached up and ran a finger along the collar. “Not that cold, beautiful.”

She looked up at him, wide blue eyes unreadable. “Do you want it back?”

He shook his head, running his hand up the side of her face to cup her cheek. “No, sweetheart, it looks better on you.”

She smiled, a real, lovely smile that makes his heart beat faster. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Sam.”

He smiled and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I know,” he whispered, smiling against her skin. “Let’s try to get in a couple hours of sleep before we have to find a way to kill the devil.”

She smiled and leaned up to kiss him gently. “Okay, handsome.”

***

Sam woke up a little to turn over, moving to wrap an arm around his woman. Before he could, he cracked an eye open to look at her lovely sleeping form.

She was laying on her back, her hair spread across the pillow in crazy tangles. Her face was turned away from him, one arm stretched over the end of the bed, the other at her side, with her hand resting on her stomach.

He frowned a little, his sleep-muddled brain trying to figure out whatever idea was working through it. He felt his heart beat faster, but still couldn’t understand what the hell was going on.

He shook his head a little and wrapped an arm around her. She sighed and rolled toward him, tucking her head under his chin. He felt a smile stretch his lips as she settled close to him, leaned back and pressed his lips to her forehead, then closed his eyes again.

As he fell asleep, he felt a wave of protective possessiveness wash through him, and he held her tighter to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I kind of love this chapter, so I'm excited for you guys to read it!  
> **It may be a few extra days before the next update, beautiful readers. We throw a big party every year for the holidays, and I'm running around like a crazy person trying to get ready for it. I'm sorry! <3  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	24. Don't Let Them Win

“Yeah, no, this is good. Really. You know, eight months of turned pages and screwed pooches but tonight, tonight’s when the magic happens.”

Chrys growled and looked up from the book she was _attempting_ to read to glare at Dean. “You’re not helping, jackass, so shut up.”

He shrugged from where he was leaning against the desk. “Yeah, well, why don’t you let me get out of your hair, then?”

She shut her eyes to try to beat back the migraine in the base of her skull. Dean had been mouthing off since they’d found him and Castiel had knocked him out to bring him to Bobby’s. Sam and Bobby were taking it rather well, but with everything that had happened in the last week, Chrys was in absolutely _no_ mood to deal with him.

She slammed her book shut. “All right, Dean, you know what? Go fuck yourself.”

His eyebrows rose, and he opened his mouth, but since she was still in no mood to listen to him, she interrupted.

“Go right on ahead and fuck yourself, Winchester.” She stood and circled the desk to confront him. “Fuck you for giving up, fuck you for not believing we can beat this, and fuck you for abandoning Sam. Just… _Fuck_ you.”

His face darkened. “Hey, Sammy’s been trying to abandon me his whole life.”

She nodded. “Yeah, he has. And that’s _worked out so well for you two.”_ She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “And get over the Stanford thing, Dean. Sam wanted a life, and he had one, a _good_ one, that _you_ dragged him out of.” She held her hands up when he opened his mouth again. “I’m not saying it was your fault, but Sam gave up a lot to be here with us, so shut the fuck up about Stanford.”

He shook his head. “Chrys, you have no idea-”

It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. “I don’t? I have no idea… About what, Dean?” He blinked at the venom in her voice. “No idea how it is to feel hopeless?” She nodded sagely. “You’re right, because being the _bride of goddamn Lucifer_ has never made me feel hopeless.”

He winced, and she ignored him. “Or do you mean I have no idea what it feels like to think the whole thing is riding on your shoulders? You’re right, because I’ve been talking to Lucifer since I was six goddamn years old, and I should have figured a way to kill him, or stop him, or _something,_ but surely I have no idea what it’s like to feel responsible for _everything.”_

“Or maybe I have no idea what it’s like to be someone who loves Sam more than he loves them. Because that has _never been a fucking problem for me.”_ She glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “So go fuck yourself, Dean. You’re not the only one who’s got goddamn problems, but you don’t see me being suicidal, so shut the fuck up.”

He stared at her for a second. “Chrys, I-”

“Ugh,” she snapped, ignoring Cass as he walked in. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Castiel was frowning as he came to stand next to her. His eyes, without a bit of subtlety, were on her flat stomach. “Chrys, you should be-”

“Working,” she said quickly, glaring at him. _Goddamn narc._ “I know. I’m done putting Dean in his place, so I should be working.”

Dean was staring between them, brow furrowed. “What-”

Before he could finish, Cass doubled over. “Ah!”

Chrys put a hand on his back and bent to look at him. “Cass? Cass, what’s wrong?”

“Something’s happening,” he ground out, before disappearing. Papers fluttered around, and Chrys groaned.

“I hate that fucking angel.”

***

Sam walked into the study, frowning. He had heard Chrys shouting, but hadn’t been able to make out the words.

He saw Dean leaning against the desk, looking guilty and defiant. He turned to Chrys and made a beeline for her the moment he laid eyes on her. Distress was clear in every line of her body, and in the way she didn’t protest when he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close. She just sighed and pressed her face into his chest.

“What’s going on in here?”

“Nothing,” she said softly, not moving away from him. “Cass just left for no goddamn reason, so that’s fun.”

Sam frowned. “Where the hell did he go?”

Bobby rolled in from the other side of the room, already glaring at the three of them. “What the hell is with all the damn racket in here?”

Before anyone could answer, Castiel appeared in the middle of the room. Chrys groaned and pressed her face into Sam’s chest again. Shocked, he couldn’t do anything but put a hand on the back of her head, staring at the angel and the man in his arms.

“Adam?”

***

Chrys was watching Adam eat in the kitchen and chewing on her lip. The kid’s knee was bouncing and he was fiddling with his sandwich in a very familiar way.

She sighed and pulled one of the kitchen drawers open. She found what she was looking for, then turned and approached the kid. She sat across from him, watching him eye her warily.

“Do you need a cigarette?”

He blinked. “Uh… Uh, yeah, that would be awesome.”

She crammed her own craving aside and smiled, waving the handcuffs she’d retrieved. “All right, Mulligan, you’re with me, then.”

Sam walked in as she was handcuffing herself to Adam. He blinked at her. “What the hell, Chrys?”

She turned and smiled at him. “Just going outside for a smoke, Sammy.”

“Chrys, he can’t-”

“Sam,” she said sharply. “The only way they’ll be able to drag him away is if Michael himself comes to get the kid, and I have my serious suspicions that that’s not going to happen.” She waved to him. “Hello, Sam, I’m Chrys, I’m immune to angel powers.”

He glared at her. “God dammit, Chrys-”

She ignored him to pull Adam outside. Once there, she leaned against the wall, closing her eyes and pressing the back of her head against the house as Adam came to lean next to her. The flick of his lighter and the hiss of his first inhale woke the craving in her, but she just leaned against the wall, eyes closed.

She didn’t know _why_ she wouldn’t smoke, it’s not like she was going to live long enough for it to make a difference, but… The baby.

“So, do you not smoke?”

She turned to look at the handsome young man next to her. He was really only a couple of years younger than she was, but she had always felt older than she was, anyway, and he was so… Innocent, of the way all of this worked. “Uh, trying to quit.”

“So why did you bring me out here?”

She sighed. “Because this is a lot to process. And if you don’t believe us, which I would not blame you for, this has got to be annoying.” She smiled. “And the Winchesters can be sanctimonious fucks about smoking, so I thought I’d cut you a break.”

He nodded, taking a deep drag. On the exhale, “So, he pitched this whole dewy-eyed, bromance thing, but the truth is that I’m on lockdown, aren’t I?”

She shrugged. “You’re a flight risk, dude. The moment you’re left alone, the angels are coming for you.” She took a deep breath and held it for a moment, then let it out slowly. “Look, I just want you to know, however the chips fall… I hope it turns out all right for you.” At his scoff, she looked over at him again. “I mean it, Adam. I think the angels are lying their asses off to you, _especially_ Zachariah, but I hope they give you time with your mom, anyway.”

He stared at her evenly. “Why do you care?”

She sighed. “Because, I am doomed to care about each Winchester brother, half siblings apparently included, for the rest of my days. It’s the terrible curse I bear.”

“Chrys!” Sam called. He ran outside and turned to look at her. “Dean’s gone, and so is Cass.”

She groaned. “Fucking Winchesters.” She turned to look at Adam. “You included.”

***

“Bobby, what do you mean, ‘Adam is gone?’” Sam shouted, arms flung out wide.

“Should I say it in Spanish?” Bobby snarled.

“They’re angels, Sam,” Chrys said softly, standing between them. “He probably told them where he was.”

Bobby nodded. “And watch your tone, boy.”

Before Sam could respond, Castiel appeared in the middle of the room, carrying a bloody Dean princess style. Chrys jumped, then glared at the angel, then looked at Dean. “What the hell happened to him?”

“Me,” Cass said coldly, depositing Dean on the floor gracelessly.

Bobby was staring at the angel. “How would Adam have even told the angels where he was?”

“I don’t know. Maybe in a dream.” Chrys answered, then she frowned. “But where would they have taken him?”

***

Chrys opened the door to the panic room slowly, peeking in to make sure Dean was awake. He was, sitting on the cot he was handcuffed to.

“How you feelin’, tough guy?” she asked softly as she entered.

He looked up. “Word the wise: don’t piss of the nerd angels.” He sighed. “How’s it going up there?”

She leaned against the table across the room from him. “The angels took Adam.”

He frowned. “Where?”

She shrugged. “Sam says the room where they took you. Cass did a recon to make sure.”

Dean nodded. “And?”

“Crawling with angels. Pretty much a ‘no shot in hell,’ hail Mary kind of thing.”

He nodded. “So the usual. So what’s the plan?”

She pushed off of the desk and approached him. “Well, first of all, we’re bringing you with.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

She leaned forward and unlocked the handcuff around his wrist. “There’s too many of them, we need you.”

He stared at her, but didn’t move. “Isn’t that a bad idea?”

“Castiel and Bobby sure seem to think so. Sam doesn’t, though, and I don’t either.”

Dean scoffed. “Well, they’re right. Because either it’s a trap to get me there to make me say yes, or it’s not a trap and I’m gonna say yes anyway. And I will. I’ll do it. Fair warning.”

She smiled. “You’re all talk, Winchester. When push comes to shove, you’ll make the right call.”

He rubbed his wrist and watched her. “You know, if the tables were turned, I’d let you rot in here.”

She chuckled. “I don’t think you would, Dean. I think you’d do the same thing. At least, you would if it was Sam.”

“I don’t get it. Why are you doing this?”

“Because you’re Sam’s big brother. Because I think you may _want_ to give up, but I doubt you’re actually going to. Because you’re a hero, you can’t help it.” She patted him on the knee and stood. “And because I don’t think you have it in you to let Sam down. And Sam believes in you, so I do, too.”

*** 

“Where the hell are we?”

Chrys looked around, her eyes landing on a rundown warehouse in the middle of what appeared to be a field. _Fucking angels._

“Van Nuys, California,” Castiel said calmly as they walked toward said warehouse.

Dean frowned. “Where’s the beautiful room?”

Chrys pointed. “In there, I bet.”

“The beautiful room is in an abandoned muffler factory in Van Nuys, California?”

“Where’d you think it was?” Cass snapped.

Chrys rolled her eyes. “Cut it out, you two. What’s the plan, Castiel?”

“I will distract the angels,” Castiel said evenly, pulling a knife out of his coat pocket. “You two go in and get Adam,” he said, nodding his head to the Winchesters.”

Chrys frowned. “What about me? And what do you plan on doing with that?”

He gave her a long look. “You’ll be outside, Chrys.”

She glared at him. “I absolutely will not, Cass.”

He grabbed her arm and suddenly pulled her close to press his lips against her ear, banking on the brothers being a few yards behind them. “Chrysanthemum, you’re pregnant, you’re staying outside, or I _will_ tell Sam and Dean,” he muttered.

“Fuck you,” she snarled softly, “I will do whatever I goddamn want.” She yanked her arm out of his grasp. “And there’s no point in telling them, Cass, not if Dean’s giving up, anyway.”

“Hey, what the fuck is going on?” Sam snapped, coming forward to put his arm around her shoulders.

She gave him a tight smile. “I’m going in with you guys.”

***

Chrys entered the angelic green room behind Sam and Dean. Adam was on the floor, leaning against the farthest wall. Chrys hurried toward him to help him stand, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling his arm around her shoulders. “Adam, hey, you all right, kiddo?”

He blinked at her blearily. “You came for me.”

She smiled. “You’re family.”

Adam looked over at the eldest Winchester. “Dean, it’s a trap.”

Dean nodded. “I figured.”

“Dean, please,” Zachariah said from behind him. “Did you really think it would be that easy?”

Dean smirked. “Did you?”

Sam came at Zachariah from behind with the angel blade. Zachariah turned and knocked it out of his hand and tossed Sam across the room.

Fear gripped Chrys’s heart. “Sam!” She pulled Adam with her to go stand next to where Sam was down.

Zachariah turned around and looked at them. “You know what I’ve learned from this experience? Patience.” He waved his hand at Chrys and Adam, but nothing happened. He glared at them again. “Lucifer’s bitch.” His eyes flicked down to her stomach. “Ah, and Lucifer’s-”

She smiled tightly and interrupted. “Hi, Zach. Gonna monologue again before we get started?”

He opened his mouth, but Dean interrupted. “The answer is yes.”

The angel whirled around to stare at Dean, and Chrys’s heart sank. _God dammit, Dean._

“Really?” Zachariah asked. “Just like that? How do I know you’re not lying?”

“Do I look like I’m lying?” Dean asked, distress etched on his face. Chrys winced, knowing that it would pain Dean just as much as Sam if he said yes.

Sam came to his feet, his brown eyes begging Dean. “Dean, please-”

“Just call Michael down,” Dean snapped, avoiding both Sam’s and Chrys’s gaze.

Adam was staring at him, too. “What the fuck?” Chrys squeezed his waist sympathetically, then nudged Sam and looked at the door. They needed to get the fuck out of there.

Zachariah looked up and spoke reverently in Enochian. _“Zodiredo, noco, aberamage, nazodpesade…_ He’s coming.”

Chrys looked at Dean’s face, a little heartbroken. Suddenly, he met her eyes and winked. Hope soared in her heart, but she didn’t let her face change at all.

“Of course,” Dean said casually, “I have a few conditions.”

Zachariah looked down at him. “What?”

“A few people’s safety you have to guarantee before I say yes.”

Zachariah nodded. “Sure, fine. Make a list.”

“But most of all…” Dean smiled. “Michael can’t have me until he disintegrates _you.”_

Chrys laughed out loud when Zachariah froze. “What did you say?” the angel snarled.

Dean stepped forward, his smile turning into a cocky grin. “I said, before Michael gets one piece of this sweet ass… He has to turn you into a piece of charcoal.”

“You really think Michael’s gonna go for that?” the angel asked incredulously.

Chrys laughed again. “I think so, yeah.”

Dean nodded. “Who’s more important to him now? You… Or me?”

Zachariah advanced on Dean. “You listen to me. You are nothing but a maggot inside a worm’s ass. Do you know who I am after I deliver you to Michael?”

Chrys grinned ferally. “Expendable, ass-wipe.” Dean shot her another wink.

Zachariah turned to look at her. “Listen, you little slut.” He approached them, murder in his eyes. “Michael’s not gonna kill me.”

“Maybe not,” Dean said evenly from behind him, “But I am.”

The angel blade ran through Zachariah’s throat. Light exploded from the angel’s orifices, and Chrys winced and turned away. Before she could recover, white light was starting to shine from the ceiling, and an ear-piercing note resounded through the room.

“It’s Michael!” she shouted, turning to Adam. “Can you walk? We have to go!”

He nodded and they started toward the door. As soon as Dean and Sam were through, it slammed shut, trapping Chrys and Adam on the other side.

She slammed on the door with her free hand. “Sam! Sam!”

She could hear him on the other side. “Chrys! It won’t open!”

Dread settled in her stomach, and she turned and pushed Adam behind her, spreading her arms wide. “Stay behind me,” she shouted, “Let me take care of the archangel.”

The light got brighter, disappeared for a moment, then a man appeared in front of him. He was tall, with strong features, and the power rolling off of him in waves told Chrys she was staring at none other than the Archangel Michael.

“Chrysanthemum Summers, the bride of Lucifer.”

“Archangel Michael, Head of the Douchebags.”

“Chrys,” Adam hissed from behind her.

“Shut up, Adam. Let me take care of this.”

Michael was staring at her evenly. “Dean did not say yes.”

She smiled. “And I hope he never does.”

“Chrysanthemum, I must fight my brother.”

She shook her head. “Not if you plan on taking half of the planet with you, you mustn’t.”

Michael tilted his head. “It is not my intention, but there may be some innocent casualties.”

She glared at him. “Easy for an angel to say.” She steeled herself to be smote. “Let me the fuck out of here, Michael, and let me bring Adam with me.”

He shook his head. “Adam Mulligan has already given his consent for the use of his vessel. I’m just hesitant to go through you, Chrysanthemum.”

She rolled her eyes. “Quit calling me Chrysanthemum, Michael. And why would you be hesitant to go through me?” She brightened. “I don’t suppose it’s because you can’t?”

Michael smiled coldly. “I certainly can, Chrysanthemum. Lucifer’s power does not eclipse mine. I have not gone through you because I do not know what the effect on your unborn child would be.”

Fear chilled Chrys’s heart, and she suddenly was struggling to breathe. “Oh.”

He nodded. “Yes, Chrysanthemum, ‘oh’ indeed.”

A hand on her shoulder had her turning to look at Adam. “You’re pregnant?”

She nodded. “Um, yeah.”

“And it’s Sam’s?”

She swallowed hard. “Yeah, yeah it is.”

He looked at her for a long time, then nodded once. “Okay.”

She frowned. “Okay what? Adam-”

He suddenly grabbed her and shoved her behind him, looking at Michael and blocking her with his body. “If you take me, you have to let her go.”

She struggled against him. “God dammit, Adam, no!”

Michael nodded and raised a hand. “Very well, Adam.”

Adam turned and gripped her arms. “Chrys, it’s okay, just be careful, and _don’t let them win.”_

She shook her head, keeping her eyes on him. “Adam, please, don’t do this-”

She was cut off by the world whirling away from her. She landed next to Sam, outside, next to the Impala, with tears already coursing down her face.

Sam grabbed her, his hands on her face and then searching down her body. “Chrys, _Jesus,_ are you all right? What did he do to you?”

She shook her head, still crying. “Nothing, Adam saved me, he sacrificed himself for me.”

He paused then wrapped his arms around her and tucked her head under his chin. “Fuck.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and whimpered into him, shaking like a leaf.

_He sacrificed himself for me and our daughter._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I'm back! I missed you guys!  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	25. Is It Because of Me?

Sam was worried about Chrys. _Again._

They were on their way back to Bobby’s after losing Adam. Sam had opted to sit in the back of Baby with Chrys, who was still crying on and off. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her across his lap, tucking her head under his chin, and held her as she wept.

He knew that she probably felt guilty about Adam, but he honestly didn’t understand her reaction. She was more upset than he’d ever seen her, and God knew she had had good reasons to be upset before. So why was she reacting like this for someone she’d only met that day?

When they pulled into Singer’s Salvage, her cries had trickled down to sniffles. She kept her face pressed into his neck and made no move to get out of the car when they stopped.

He had been running a hand through her hair, and he kept the slow, gentle motion going when he spoke. “Come on, beautiful, let’s go to bed.”

She sighed deeply, then pressed a soft kiss to his neck. “Okay,” she said softly, then gracefully maneuvered herself out of the car.

He guided her toward the house with one hand on the small of her back. They were almost to the door when Castiel appeared in front of them.

Chrys jumped. “God _dammit,_ Cass, quit that!”

The angel grabbed her upper arms, staring at her intently. “Chrysanthemum, are you all right? What happened?”

To Sam’s surprise, she didn’t yank herself out of Cass’s grasp, just looked up at him. “I’m fine, Cass. Adam… Adam said yes to Michael to protect me.”

Cass nodded sharply. “And-”

“No,” she said, a little quickly. “No, Dean didn’t say yes. He saved us.”

“Only because you two were stupid enough to bring me along,” Dean said easily, standing next to Sam. Sam noticed his brother observing the weird exchange between the angel and Chrys, too, and wondered what Dean made of it.

“Let’s go inside, kids,” Dean said finally, “It’s cold.”

***

Chrys sat at the kitchen table while the men talked around her. She listened, but was too drained to really contribute anything. She just leaned against Sam, absorbing his warmth, absent-mindedly resting her hand on her belly.

“How ya holdin’ up, Summers?” Dean’s gruff voice had her opening her eyes and sitting up a little.

She shrugged. “I’m all right. Just kind of… Empty. And cold,” she added, rubbing her arms.

He nodded and slid a tumbler of whiskey across the table to her. “Here, this will help.”

She stared at it for a moment, then shook her head and slid it over to Sam. “Here, Sammy, you take it. I’m not up for liquor.”

She felt Sam’s eyes boring into the side of her head, and tried to ignore him until he spoke.

“All right, _what_ is going on with you?” he asked. “You aren’t drinking, you’re suddenly wearing clothes to bed, what’s going on? Are you sick?”

Chrys felt a blush warm her face. “Lots of information you’re giving out there, Sammy.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, TMI, brother.”

Sam wasn’t deterred. “Come on, Chrys, please tell me what’s going on.”

While she appreciated the lack of orders, she was still reluctant to tell him about the baby. So she shook her head. “Nothing, Sam.” She turned to Dean. “What do we do next? How do we find Adam?”

Instead of changing the focus of the conversation, as she had hoped to do with her shitty distraction, Chrys watched with dismay as Dean’s green eyes lit with interest. “Well that was a misdirect if I’ve ever heard one,” he said softly.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, you’re pretty much screwed, Chrys, you’ll have to tell us eventually.”

Suddenly, she was irritated. _Fuck him. Fuck both of them._ She stood, pushing her chair back and pushing Sam away at the same time. “Actually, I don’t have to tell you jack shit,” she said evenly. “I’m going to bed.”

“Chrys,” Sam said, his voice low. Dread and fury filled her at once, because he really only dropped his voice that low for one reason.

“Sammy, you’re gonna want to back the fuck off,” she said quietly, before he could demand the truth from her.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?” He asked, anger and confusion lacing his voice.

Chrys saw Dean slip out of the room out of the corner of her eye, and was relieved. This was _not_ a conversation she wanted to have in front of the eldest Winchester.

She turned to Sam. “Because, Sam, it doesn’t matter.”

He frowned and put a hand on her hip, guiding her to sit back down next to him. She went hesitantly, bitter about how willing she was to do what he wanted. “It matters to me,” he said gently, bringing his other hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Come on, Chrys, please tell me?”

She looked at him for a long time, examining those warm brown eyes. His handsome face, his strong jaw, those devastating cheekbones. _Good grief, I love him._

She sighed. “Sam, you don’t want to know. Please let this go.”

He shook his head. “Come on, Chrys, please?” He cupped her cheek with his hand, and she leaned into it, craving his touch. “Please, beautiful,” he said softly, “I can help.”

She opened her mouth to continue her objections when Cass walked in and frowned at her, and the tumbler in front of her. “Chrys, you shouldn’t be drinking.”

She glared at him while Sam frowned. “Why shouldn’t she be drinking?”

Castiel didn't look over at Sam, just stared at Chrys. Blue eyes met blue eyes, and they warred silently for a moment before she gave in. _Fucking narc angel._

But… Sam really _did_ deserve to know.

She looked over at him, suddenly extremely nervous. “I, um… I shouldn’t be drinking because… Um…” She groaned and ran her hand through her hair. “Fuck, okay. Um.” She met his confused brown eyes, and just hoped that he wouldn’t be mad. “I shouldn’t be drinking because I’m pregnant, Sam.”

***

Sam felt every thought he’d ever had vacate his brain as his world tilted on it’s axis.

_-because I’m pregnant because I’m pregnant because I’m pregnant-_

The words rang in his head, chasing themselves over and over and over. There was a faint buzzing in his ears, and Chrys sounded very far away when she said his name.

“Sam? Sam? Oh, for fuck’s sake. Sam! Snap out of it!”

Her soft hand patting him on the cheek brought him back to the present, back to reality. He stared at her for a moment, then, “What did you say?”

She looked sympathetic, and she left her hand on his face. “I’m pregnant, Sammy. About a week and a half along.” She looked over at Cass, who nodded.

Sam shook his head, confused, and trying to clear the buzzing in his ears. “Look, I don’t… I don’t know a lot about this, but how would you already know? I mean… Don’t women usually not know for a while?”

Chrys shrugged. “I don’t know how I know. I just… Did. The morning of.”

“I have a theory about that,” Cass said. Sam felt his neck creak a little when he turned to look at the angel. “The baby isn’t entirely human.”

Sam saw Chrys flinch a little, and he automatically reached forward to pull her close to him, tucking her into his side. “What do you mean?” she asked softly, cuddling close. “Is it… Is it because of me?”

Castiel shook his head. “No. I believe it’s a result of the demon blood that runs through Sam’s veins. It’s not very much, so the baby wouldn’t be a full Cambion like Jesse is, but I suspect she will probably have some small amount of power. I think you sense that power.”

Reality came crashing down on Sam when he realized they were talking about _his baby._ His baby with _Chrys._ His baby with Chrys who was going to be affected by the demon in Sam.

He ran his free hand through his hair, willing his brain to catch up. “Okay, wait, what?” He shook his head. “The baby is…” He frowned. “She? How do you…”

“Um, Cass knew,” Chrys said softly. He looked down at her, nestled under his arm. “He told me on the day we killed the Whore of Babylon.”

Sam frowned. “Chrys, why didn’t you tell me?”

She pressed her face into his shoulder, and he couldn’t help the way he hugged her to him tighter. The distress in her face affected him. “Because, honestly? I don’t know if it’s going to matter.” She looked up at him, letting him gaze into those blue eyes that he suddenly hoped fiercely would pass on to their child. “I don’t know if I think we’re gonna survive this, Sammy.”

***

Later, Chrys sat on the couch and watched with no small amount of amusement as the Winchesters bustled around her, everyone settling in to research.   
  
Sam had started fussing over her the moment he’d found out about the baby. He made her eat a huge supper, nearly twice as much as she normally ate. She wouldn’t have done it, and she had actually opened her mouth to tell him to go fuck himself.   
  
As if he had sensed that, he had told Dean and Bobby about the pregnancy. Chrys was strong, usually able to rely on her bitchiness to get her through any sticky situation. But she wasn’t strong enough to resist two sets of puppy dog eyes and one set of grumpy old man eyes, all three telling her to sit down and eat. So she had buckled under the feeling of three different people caring about her, and had eaten almost until she’d thrown up.   
  
She was smiling at Sam, whose rueful smile told her that he knew he was being ridiculous as he draped a blanket over her, when Castiel walked in.   
  
The angel frowned. “What’s going on?”   
  
Before any of the men could answer, Chrys rolled her eyes. “Everyone is freaking out about the baby, Cass.” She smiled. “Twelve days in the womb, and they’re already acting like mother hens.”   
  
Castiel looks at the three men in the room evenly. “You understand that Chrys is perfectly fine? That there is no reason that she should be restricted from normal activity, aside from drinking and smoking cigarettes?”   
  
Before any of the three men could react, Chrys snorted. “Says the angel that just _today_ didn’t want me anywhere near the fight.”   
  
Castiel had the good grace to look embarrassed before he let his face settle into a careful mask. But Chrys saw it, and it softened her toward him. Which was probably why when he approached and knelt in front of her, she just smiled.   
  
“May I check on the baby?” he asked in his gravelly, no-nonsense way.   
  
She cocked an eyebrow. “She’s a week and a half old, Cass, I doubt anything has changed.” Before he could object, she continued quickly. “But yes, go ahead.”   
  
He placed his big, cool and on her belly, and she felt warmth pulse through her middle. When he took his hand away and she met those eyes that were so similar to her own, she felt a little wiggle of fear in her heart.   
  
“She’s perfectly healthy, Chrys.”   
  
Something that had been tight in her chest relaxed at his words, and she smiled. “Good.”   
  
Sam came and sat next to her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. “How do you know she’s a she, Cass? I thought that didn’t happen until later.”   
  
Castiel gazed evenly at them. “Gender is part of the soul, it has already been decided.”   
  
Chrys frowned. “What about transgendered people? Or non-gender-binary people?”   
  
At Sam, Dean, and Bobby’s looks, Chrys sighed. “Trans and non-binary people can sometimes be… Depressed, scared, alone. They turn toward drugs sometimes. I’ve known quite a few of them.”   
  
Dean frowned. “What the fuck is non-binary?”   
  
Chrys smiled. “Someone who doesn’t feel like a man or a woman. They’re somewhere in between.”   
  
She felt herself get ready to be furious with the elder Winchester, until he shrugged. “Rock on.”   
  
She smiled and turned to Sam, who was still looking at the angel. “Can you tell… Can you tell if she’s going to be like that, Cass?”   
  
Castiel smiled, and Chrys was comforted. “Gender is part of the soul, not the body. Humans assigned two genders, I have been led to believe that God doesn’t care that much.” He met Chrys’s gaze. “She will be a woman, and she will be lovely.”   
  
Chrys felt warmth spread along her cheeks and in her chest when Sam pulled her close to press a kiss to her temple. “Just like her mother.”   
  
***   
  
Later, Chrys watched again with amusement as Sam fussed around her, getting ready for bed.   
  
“Sam,” she said softly, taking pity on the poor man, “I’m not an invalid. I’m barely even pregnant. Most women don’t even know this early, there is absolutely no reason to be this worried.”   
  
He sighed and sat on the bed next to her. “I know,” he said with a smile, “I can’t seem to help it.”   
  
She patted the empty space next to her. “Then come to bed, let’s just sleep the day off.”   
  
He sighed and obeyed, gathering her up tenderly and pressing a kiss to her forehead. She cuddled into him, warm and very close to being happy, wearing his t-shirt and sleeping in his bed. _Oh, Sammy._   
  
“It’s kind of surreal,” he whispered, his hand stroking her back in an extremely calming gesture.   
  
She nodded against his chest. “You’re telling me. I’m the one carrying her.”   
  
There was a beat of silence, then, _“Her.”_ He took a deep breath, and she could tell he was struggling to contain his emotions. Instead of calling him out, she wrapped an arm around his waist and tangled her legs with his, cuddling as close as physically possible to him.   
  
“I can’t… I mean… A _baby.”_   
  
“I know,” she said softly, smiling into his warm chest.   
  
“I don’t…” He took another deep breath. “I mean… I don’t even know how to begin to process this.”   
  
She sighed and leaned back to stare into his warm, still shocked brown eyes. “Sam, I don’t think there is a way to process this yet. Let’s just… Let’s just get through this apocalypse, Sammy, and we’ll go from there, okay? We’ll have a good, long talk about everything.”   
  
***   
  
Sam held her until she slept, running his hand up and down her sleek back, now covered with his t-shirt. He was still in shock, in awe, in any number of completely blindsided states.   
  
But when she had come out of the bathroom in his clothes and sat on his bed and laid her head on _his_ chest to sleep, something fierce swept through him. Possessiveness, protectiveness, neediness, and above all, an absolute and ground shaking adoration for Chrys. It was completely out of his control, it was part of what made him who he was.   
  
He watched her lovely, relaxed face in sleep, and wondered idly if he would be able to convince her to marry him.   
  
_After the apocalypse. A good, long talk, after the apocalypse._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I hope I did this chapter justice.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	26. Nothing at All

_ Chrys smiled and watched Sam chase their daughter across the backyard.  _

_ Mary Grace, at five years old, was tall, like her parents. She had the same deep chestnut hair as her father, and the same bright blue eyes as her mother. She was smart and funny and bright, she was everything Chrys could have wanted in a daughter, had she ever actually wanted a daughter. _

_ She watched her husband tackle Mary, their child’s peals of laughter ringing through the summer air. _

_ Dean, Lisa, and Ben were on their way for lunch, and Chrys was looking forward to it. Sometimes the little family they had created made her swell with joy, which was extremely uncharacteristic, but true. _

_ Her smile faltered when Sam scooped Mary over his shoulder and looked up to see the black, dangerous clouds rolling across the sky. Chrys opened her mouth to cry out to him, but before she could, her family was swallowed by darkness. _

_ “No!” _

_ “Chrysanthemum.” _

_ Memories poured into Chrys, and she remembered who she was. The bride of Lucifer, not the bride of Sam Winchester. _

_ When she turned, Lucifer was wearing Sam’s face. None of the inherent kindness was there, and he was cold, closed off to her. He was every inch an archangel, a fallen soldier, the devil. _

_ “My beloved wife.” _

***

Chrys woke in a cold sweat, with real, honest fear trickling through her. “What the hell?” she asked softly, sitting up and rubbing a hand down her face.

_ That wasn’t real. _ It had had none of the realism of the dreams that Lucifer had hijacked over the years, only the strange hyperrealism of regular dreams.

_ Well then what the fuck? _ Why would her brain voluntarily dream of Lucifer?

The answer, of course, was that it hadn’t been a dream. It had been a nightmare.

She was having nightmares for the first time in her life because now,  _ now, _ she understood fear. Before Sam, she hadn’t had much to lose. Life hadn’t been kind to her, it had been downright shitty, and she wasn’t afraid to lose her own. She wouldn’t have counted it as much of a loss.

But  _ now, _ she had something to lose. She had Sam, Dean, and Bobby. Even Castiel was thrown in there. She had Kev and Serene again, and Jesse. For fuck’s sake, over the last year, she had made what amounted to a little family of her own with Sam.

_ And baby makes three. _

Chrys had had a nightmare because she was, for the first time ever, absolutely terrified of losing her life.

***

Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise when heard Sam and Chrys’s bedroom door open and close. He was used to being the first one up for several hours, but the soft footsteps on the stairs told him that he would have Chrys as company this morning.

When she came into the kitchen, she didn’t even seem to realize he was there. He frowned as she grabbed Sam’s coat and walked outside without a word. He stood to follow her, shrugging his own coat on before he went out the door.

He found her leaning against the house, eyes closed, her head leaned back. “Everything all right, Summers?”

She shrugged without opening her eyes. “As all right as it can be, I guess.”

He came to stand next to her, leaning against the wall. He didn’t want her out here alone, there was too much danger, too many people who wanted to hurt them. But he understood the need for silence, so he kept his trap shut.

Dean liked Chrys. He liked that she put Sam in his place, he liked that she put  _ Dean _ in his place. She was smart and tough and mouthy, and was quickly becoming one of Dean’s closest friends.

The news that she was carrying his niece had rocked him a little. He had, of course, known that she and Sam weren’t celibate, but he had hoped they were being  _ responsible, _ at least. And now, the question, “Where the hell were the condoms?” seemed inappropriate.

So instead of asking, he would just make sure she was taken care of.

“Do you think we can win?” she asked softly.

He let the question roll around in his mind for a moment. “If we can find a way to ice the devil, yes,” he said simply. “And I think we will find a way.”

She nodded, and he turned to look at her. “Do you?” he asked softly.

She took a deep breath. “I think if there’s a way to beat him, you guys will find it.”

Dean let the silence reign for a while longer before he spoke. “Chrys,” he said gently, turning to look at her. Her blue eyes fixed on him, and he tried to convey comfort. “Chrys, I hope you know that I’ll protect you, and the baby, with my life. Sam feels the same way, I know he does.”

She smiled and nodded. “I know, Dean.”

He nodded once. “Then let’s go get some food in you, Summers. You’re eating for two now.”

***

Two weeks later, Chrys was going to  _ strangle _ the Winchester brothers.

They had been running nonstop for two weeks, looking for a way to kill Lucifer. They had spoken to witches, with doctors, Satanists, hoodoo men and women, warlocks, and everything in between. When Chrys wasn’t investigating with Sam, she was calling people from her past, the groups of people who had tried to help her break her bond with Lucifer.

Her list added a lot of variety, and a lot of travelling, to the list that the men had come up with. She worked just as hard as they did. Or, at least, she  _ tried _ to work as hard as they did.

Now that the Winchesters knew she was pregnant, they followed her around like tall, cranky nannies. They were always pushing food into her hand, asking her if she’d had enough rest or water or  _ whatever, _ and it was driving her absolutely insane. She knew it was because they cared, and because they were worried, but it was getting harder and harder to bite her tongue. She was only three and a half weeks along, for fuck’s sake.

When they got to the motel that night, it was a battle not to slam the door of the Impala. Once she was standing, she took a deep breath, running her hands through her hair. She wanted a long, hot shower, and more than an hour of sleep.

Sam came to stand next to her, his big hand warm on the small of her back. “How you holding up, beautiful?”

She sighed and gave into the urge to lean into him. “I’m tired, Sam.”

She tensed when he exhaled sharply. “Well, yeah, you haven’t gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep over the past two weeks. Maybe you-”

_ “Absolutely _ not,” she snapped, glaring at him, and then glaring at Dean when he came to stand next to them. “Quit coddling me, you morons, I’m fine. I’ve gotten just as much rest and food and whatever else you’re about to bitch about as the two of you, and I’m still standing. So  _ shut the fuck up about it.” _

Dean frowned. “Chrys, we’re just-”

“Making sure I’m fine, I  _ know. _ I  _ am. _ But I’m going to violently murder both of you if you keep it up.” She took a deep breath and pressed her face into Sam’s shoulder. “Let’s just… I don’t suppose we can get a decent amount of sleep tonight?”

She saw Dean shrug in her peripheral vision. “Don’t see why not. We’ve got no new leads, that Native American priestess you put us in contact with doesn’t want us until tomorrow evening, and she’s only a few hours away. No reason not to get a few hours in.”

Chrys sighed, relief coursing through her. She leaned more heavily into Sam. “Thank fucking Christ.”

***

Sam lay awake next to Chrys, who had damn near fallen asleep in her clothes the moment she’d laid down. He had gently convinced her to get up so he could pull her clothes off, dropped one of his old t-shirts over her head, undressed himself, then slipped them both between the sheets on the bed. Now he was watching her sleep, her chest rising and falling, and let himself be lost in his thoughts.

She had been incredible these last two weeks, coming up with leads, seemingly out of nowhere, talking to people, investigating, and never uttering a word of complaint. He knew he was laying it on thick when it came to making sure she was taking care of herself, and he knew she thought it was about the baby. But it was about  _ her. _ It was about how head over heels in love he was with her.

It was also about the fact that he’d had to keep his hands to himself for three weeks. They had been constantly on the move, snagging motel rooms to sleep for an hour or two before hitting the road again, desperate to find a way to defeat Lucifer. They’d barely had a moment to themselves to think, much less to do anything else.

His eyelids started to droop, and he felt exhaustion weighing heavy on his shoulders. So he pulled her close, buried his face in her hair, and slept, deciding that he’d make love to her tomorrow morning instead.

***

Sam didn’t get a chance to make his move on Chrys, because he woke up with her hot,  _ incredible _ mouth on his cock.

He woke up with a gasp, moving his hands down to thread through and fist in her hair. She moaned low, sending vibrations up through his cock, and he tilted his head back and tried hard not to thrust into her mouth.

She moved back until just his tip was in her mouth and sucked hard, making Sam’s eyes roll back in his head, then she took his entire length into her mouth until he could feel the back of her throat against him. “Jesus  _ Christ, _ Chrys,  _ fuck!” _

She pulled off of him with a  _ pop! _ She smiled up at him with a devastating, warm, loving smile that made his heart beat even faster than her mouth on him had. “Morning, Sammy,” she said softly. Her hair was spilling over one shoulder, her bright blue eyes hot and twinkling.

He surged up and pulled her up toward him, kissing her hard, keeping her still with his hand on the back of her head. She whimpered and crawled up his body until she was straddling him, gasping and moaning into his mouth. He swallowed all of her little noises, then moved to kiss his way down her neck, pausing to worship the place where her neck met her shoulder. She tilted her head back and ran her fingers through his hair. “Oh, Sam,” she sighed.

He put his hands on her hips and moved to center her over him, his hands slipping under the hem of the t-shirt  she was wearing and moving up the warm skin of her back. He pressed gentle kisses to her collarbone through the material of the shirt she was wearing. “Mmm, this really does look better on you,” he murmured against her, tugging on the edge of the shirt.

She hovered over him, the heat from her core making him shudder. She looked down at him and smiled. “Flattery will still get you everywhere, handsome.”

He grinned, wrapped his arms around her, and turned, pinning her to the bed with his weight. He savored the way she wrapped her long legs around his waist automatically, moving her hips to press into him. He moaned and pressed his face into her neck. “Ah, fuck,  _ Chrys.” _

She whimpered and tilted her head back. “Sam, please,  _ please,” _ she moaned, the noises going straight to his cock, driving him crazy.

“Tell me what you want, Chrys,” he husked against her warm skin. “Come on, baby, gotta say it for me.”

She moaned and canted her hips up, managing to impale herself onto the first couple inches of his cock before he could move back. He groaned and dropped his head onto her shoulder. “You, Sam,” she whispered, running her hands up and down his back, “I want you.”

He sank into her slowly, savoring her gentle whimpers and soft sighs. When he bottomed out, they moaned in unison, and he shuddered as she sank her teeth into his neck.

He set a slow, gentle pace, worshipping her, loving her with his hands and his mouth. When she came, she cried out his name, and he felt it everywhere at once as pleasure rolled through him like a tidal wave, and he moaned into her shoulder.

He rolled to his side and brought her with him, pulling her face into his chest. She cuddled into him without complaint, tangling their legs together and pressing her lips to his skin. He held her through the aftershocks, kissing her forehead and keeping her flush against him.

She looked up at him and smiled. “Morning.”

He grinned and brushed her hair out of her face. “Morning, beautiful.”

She turned to kiss his palm and smiled at him. “Breakfast?”

***

Dean watched Chrys and Sam order breakfast as he sat at the table they had snagged. He watched the way Chrys moved to accommodate Sam, which she had always done. She had always been extremely aware of his little brother, and had always moved around him instead of with him.

But now Sam was moving around  _ her, _ they were moving together. He shifted to wrap an arm around her, pressing an absent-minded kiss to her temple while they waited for their order. She was wrapped in Sam’s coat, and her arm had snaked around his waist.

Dean wasn’t born yesterday, he knew that part of their newfound affection was because of the baby.

He also thought that his little brother had probably fallen in love.

***

Chrys lay in the back of the Impala, warmth glowing in the middle of her chest. They were on the way to the Native American priestess that Chrys had called, and even though they were in a terrible situation, on their way to find a terrible solution, she couldn’t wipe the little smile off of her face.

The happiness in her veins was in direct correlation to Sam. The tender he had held her that morning, the way he’d worked so hard to take care of her the last two weeks. A full night’s sleep had given her perspective, and his hovering and stupid, macho, you’re-a-woman-who-needs-to-be-watched-carefully-because-you-can’t-make-decisions-for-yourself bullshit was making her all warm and fuzzy on the insides. It was the patriarchy at work, telling her that she shouldn’t be walking or working while she was pregnant, but it was caring and so warm and he was so handsome that, in the end, she didn’t really mind.

He looked back in the seat and smiled as he flipped the phone in his hand shut. “What are you smiling about?”

She smiled back. “Nothing at all, Sammy, not at all.”

_ God, I love you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Happy holidays, beautiful readers! I hope everyone who celebrates Christmas had a good time, and everyone who doesn't ALSO had a good time. I actually celebrate Yule, and in case you aren't familiar, that means I stayed up all damn night and am now exhausted. On top of that, we're fostering five-week-old puppies (named Winch and Chester, wink wink), so the next chapter may take an extra day or two.  
> **Some fluff and smut for you before we enter the world of pain that is at the end of S5.  
> **Thank you, all of you who are sticking with Sam and Chrys. Thank you for loving them as much as I do.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	27. Let it All Sink In

“Dear Diary, being a high powered business president is super-fun. But sooo exhausting. Sometimes, I just need to relax. I need Casa Erotica.”

Chrys watched with narrowed eyes as there was a knock on the “business president’s” room door. “Did… Did he give us  _ porn?” _

They were standing on the side of the road, watching the DVD that the archangel Gabriel had given Dean, right before sacrificing himself. Chrys was wrapped in Sam’s strong arms, leaning against him as they watched.

“Gabriel wanted you to guard this with your  _ life?” _ Sam asked, his low voice rumbling in her ear.

Dean shrugged. “Maybe he's a fan. It  _ is _ a good one.”

Chrys’s eyebrows rose when Gabriel appeared on the screen. “I've got the kielbasa you ordered.”

Chrys laughed, and the scantily clad woman on screen purred, “Ooh. Polish?”

Gabriel, who was wearing a  _ ridiculous _ fake mustache, cocked an eyebrow. “Hungarian.”

He tossed the tray he had been holding and grabbed the woman, kissing her sloppily.

Chrys wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”

“What the hell is going on?” Sam asked.

Gabriel suddenly lying let the woman go, removed the mustache, and looked at the camera.

“Sam, Dean, Chrys. You’re probably wondering what the hell is going on. Well, if you’re watching this, I’m dead.” He held a hand up. “Oh, please! Stop sobbing, it’s embarrassing for all of us.” The angel put his hand down and gave them a cocky grin through the screen. “Without me, you’ve got zero shot at killing Lucifer. Sorry! But you  _ can _ trap him. The cage you sprung Lucifer from?  _ It’s still down there. _ And maybe, just maybe, you can shove his ass back in.” He held up a finger. “Not that it will be easy. You gotta get the cage open, trick my bro back into it, and, oh yeah, avoid Michael and the God Squad. But, hey, details, right? And here’s the big secret, Lucifer himself doesn’t even know, the key to the cage? It’s out there. Actually, it’s keys, plural. Four keys, well, four rings. From the Horsemen. You get ‘em all, you got the cage.” He sighed. “Can’t say I’m bettin’ on you boys, but, uh, hey! I’ve been wrong before.”

The angel sobered. “Chrys, I don’t know what Lucifer going into the cage will do to you, or the bun you’re cooking. So be careful, but this is still our only shot. And Dean, you were right. I was afraid to stand up to my brother, but not anymore.” Gabriel stood. “So this is me, standing up.”

He turned and grabbed the woman. “And this is me, lying down.” He tossed her onto the bed.

Chrys winced and slammed the laptop shut. “Gross.”

Dean looked thoughtful. “Horsemen, huh? Well, we got War’s. We nicked Famine’s. That’s two down. Collect all four?”

***

“And Dean just walks out the door with Crowley.”

Chrys was listening to Sam bitch about Dean to Bobby in the other room. She was sitting in the kitchen of the shithole Crowley had brought them to, chewing on her thumb, nervous. She was nervous for Dean, nervous for Sam, nervous for herself.  _ This situation is completely fucked. _

Crowley had approached them with an offer to give them Pestilence. Then he had carefully worded and walked his way around the fact that he didn’t actually know where Pestilence was, but knew someone who would know. Chrys had never rolled her eyes so hard in her life.

Sam had been  _ livid _ that Crowley had shown his face. Chrys thought that most of it was because Crowley had given them the Colt, and she had almost died. But she thought the rest of it was probably because Crowley had, without warning, shown up in the backseat of Baby, right next to her. Sam was normally pretty protective, but since the baby, it had gotten worse.

But Dean had gone with him, and Chrys silently agreed with that call. They had no other options. There was no other way, how the hell were they supposed to find a Horseman by themselves?

In the other room, Sam scoffed. “Yeah, maybe.”

There was a moment of silence, and the little hairs on Chrys’s neck stood up on end. She turned to stare at the door of the room as Sam continued. “Hey, Bobby?” A beat. “Uh, do you remember that time you were possessed?”

Chrys rolled her eyes, almost hearing Bobby’s snarky remark in her head. Sam kept going. “When Meg told you to kill Dean, you didn’t. You took your body back.” Another few moments. “Well, how’d you do it? I mean, how’d you take back the wheel?”

Chrys frowned.  _ What? _

“Say we can open the cage. Great. But then what? We… We just lead the devil to the edge and get him to jump in?”

A few moments passed. “What if you guys lead the devil to the edge and I jump in?”

Chrys’s heart stopped and her blood ran cold.

“It’d be just like when you turned the knife around on yourself. One action, just one leap.” Chrys heard Bobby shouting over the phone, but couldn’t make out the words. “It’s not like that,” Sam protested, “I’m not gonna do it. Not unless we all agree. But I think we got to look at our options.” Another beat. “Why not?”

The pain in Sam’s voice made her want to go to him, but she couldn’t move her legs. “I know, Bobby, I know, but… I mean, I’d rather she be raised without me than with fucking  _ Lucifer _ walking around topside. I can’t… I  _ can’t _ let that happen. To Chrys or the baby.”

Chrys closed her eyes against the tears that were threatening to overwhelm her.  _ Oh, Sammy… _

“Yeah, yeah, I am.” He paused. “I’m strong enough.”

Chrys bent to put her head in her hands, devastated.  _ Knew it was too good to be true. _

When she had realized she was pregnant, and had told Sam, and he’d been almost happy about it, she should have been on the lookout for disaster. Domestic bliss wasn’t in her future. Hell was.

She didn’t move a muscle at Sam’s muttered, “Fuck.”  _ Must have realized he left the door open. _

She did lift her head when she heard his footsteps. The distraught look on his face had her standing and walking to him on instinct, wrapping her arms around his waist to offer comfort. “It’s okay, Sammy,” she said gently. “I… I get it, I understand.”

He pressed her into him, looking down at her. “Chrys… Chrys, I-“

Before he could continue, she went up and kissed him thoroughly. She didn’t want to hear it.

She knew now, she understood. She knew why she had always had faith in Sam, but had also always known they would lose.

Sam would defeat Lucifer, she had no doubt. Sam would find a way to overpower the devil and send him right back to hell.

But they would lose Sam.

She stemmed her tears again as their mouths moved against each other.  _ Don’t you dare cry, Summers, _ she scolded herself,  _ crying won’t help anyone. _

***

The sound of the door opening had Sam looking up from where he was sitting with Chrys on the bed. He frowned as they stood, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist.

He couldn’t stop touching her. He had always had trouble keeping his hands off of her, but since he’d found out about the baby, it had gotten worse. He always wanted to have some part of him on some part of her.

And now… Knowing that the only good plan they had available gave him a very limited number of days to live, it was  _ much _ worse.

They walked through to the front room of the ramshackle house to see Crowley standing there. Sam frowned again. “Where’s Dean?”

Crowley ignored him. “Now, for the record, I’m against this. Negotiating a high level defection… It’s very delicate business.”

Dread started to pool in Sam’s gut. “What are you talking about.

Crowley ignored him again. “I begged Dean not to come back. We should be miles away… From  _ you. _ He replied with a colorful rejoinder about my ‘corn chute.’”

Chrys’s light laughter made Sam’s heart flutter. Crowley shot her a wink, then looked back at Sam and waved his hand. “So, go ahead. Go,  _ ruin _ our best hope. It’s only the end of the world.”

Sam turned and saw Dean standing in another room. He walked in, Chrys trailing behind him, to see Dean looking at a man tied up in a chair, with a hood over his head.

Dean looked over, an unreadable expression on his face. “Sam. Chrys.”

“What’s up, Winchester?” Chrys said casually. Sam heard the underlying tension in her voice, but thought that maybe if someone didn’t know her, they wouldn’t have.

Sam nodded. “What’s going on, Dean?”

Dean approached them slowly, and trepidation joined the dread in Sam’s stomach. “I need you to stay on mission, okay?” Dean said cautiously. “Focused.”

Chrys came to stand next to Sam. “What’s going on, Dean?”

Dean glanced at her, then looked back at Sam. “I’m doing this ‘cause I trust you.”

Sam shook his head. “Trust me to what?”

The man in the hood stirred and lifted his head. “Sam? Sam, is that you?”

Dean sighed and removed the man’s hood.

Sam felt his eyes go wide as recognition rocked him. “Brady?”

“Who’s Brady?” Chrys asked softly.

Brady grinned. “Brady hasn’t been  _ Brady _ in years. Not since, oh… Middle of our sophomore year?”

Shock chased all coherent thought away. “What?” Sam asked, almost at a whisper.

“That’s right. You had a devil on your shoulder, even back then.” A mock sympathetic look crossed Brady’s face. “All right, now, let it all sink in.”

Fury washed through Sam, and he took a step forward. “You son of a bitch.” Another step. “You son of a bitch!” He made to move toward the demon, to fucking  _ kill _ him, but Dean stopped him. “You introduced me to  _ Jess!” _ He shouted as he struggled against Dean.

“Ding! Ding! I think he’s got it!”

A gentle hand on Sam’s arm made him pause in his struggles. He looked down at Chrys, who was glaring daggers at Brady. “Come on, Sam,” she said gently, “We need him. You can’t kill him yet.”

His chest heaving with fury and heartbreak, he stared at her. “Chrys-”

“Not now, Sam,” she snapped. “Come on.”

He followed her soft touch out of the room, ignoring his brother, and ignoring the bastard in the chair. She led him to the bedroom, then turned and shut the door behind them.

She turned back to him. “All right, deep breaths, Sammy.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “He… He ruined  _ everything.” _

She nodded. “I know.”

Tears threatened his eyes, and Sam fought them back. “My whole life. Everything I had, everything I’ve ever  _ wanted, _ he  _ took _ it from me.”

Her blue eyes were unreadable to him. “I know.”

“Chrys,” he said desperately, “I can’t just let him walk.”

She sighed. “We won’t, Sam. He’ll get his, and you’re going to give it to him. But for now, we need him. He can get us Pestilence.” She stepped forward and put a hand on his chest. “And as soon as he does, you can tear him apart to your heart’s content. But for now, you need to chill the fuck out.”

He groaned and ran his hands down his face. “Yeah, yeah… I know.”

“If you’re going to try to pull a fast one on Luci,” she said softly, looking down, “you’re going to need to get a handle on that temper.”

That stopped him, and he looked down at her. “What?”

She met his gaze. “Sam, Lucifer is  _ good. _ He’s going to find any button he can push to make you lose control. If you’re going to beat him, you’re going to have to find a way to deal with your anger without killing things. Because he’s going to use that against you.”

Her words, while they made sense, pinged at his heart. Her voice was rife with pain, and it was because of him. He wished vehemently that there was any other way.

But there wasn’t, so he pulled her close to him and pressed his lips against her forehead. “I’m sorry, Chrys,” he said against her skin.

She sighed and leaned into him. “I know you are, Sam.”

***

Chrys had to admit that Crowley’s plan had worked, even if it had infuriated Sam.

As soon as the two hellhounds had started fighting, Sam had practically lifted her off of her feet to get her out of the room. She had let him, rolling her eyes the whole time. He needed to “save” her, she understood, but it was annoying as fuck. She had also had to stop him from beating Crowley to a pulp.

Now, they watched Brady and Crowley talk at the end of an alley. Chrys wrapped her arms around herself, a chill working it’s way through her. Sam was radiating fury and leashed violence, and while it was usually sexy as hell when he was like that, now she just wanted to go to bed.

Hearing him say what he had said about Jess had taken it’s toll on her.  _ Everything I’ve ever wanted. _ It made her feel strange, because she wanted that life for him, but she also wanted him to shut the fuck up and take it back.

_ Pregnancy has turned me into a fourteen-year-old girl again. _

She knew she wasn’t what he’d always wanted, but it would have been nice to have never heard those stupid words out of his stupid, gorgeous mouth.

Brady was handing Crowley a piece of paper. “Yeah. I’m sure Pestilence will be there. Thanks.”

Dean looked at Crowley. “What do you think?”

Crowley nodded. “It’s good.” He smirked at Brady. “You’ve got no reason to lie, have you? Like I said before, you’re in my boat now.”

Brady scowled. “You’ve fucked me over, for eternity.”

Crowley kept his cool smile. “Nah. Won’t last that long. Trust me.”

Chrys took her cue and picked up the bag of rock salt they’d brought with them. As soon as Crowley and Dean were clear, she started pouring a thick line of salt across the opening of the alley.

“Where are you going?” Brady asked, concern lacing his voice.

“Doing you a favor.” Crowley turned to Sam. “I expect we’ll be in touch.”

Chrys finished the salt line and sat back to watch her boys work.

“What is this?”

Dean was circling the demon in tandem with Sam, both of them all predator. Chrys took a moment outside of her pain to admire Sam, the way his lithe body moved, the violence in him snapping at its leash.

“All those angels,” Dean said casually, “All those demons, all those sons of bitches. They just don’t get it, do they, Sammy?”

“No, they don’t, Dean.”

Dean smiled. “You see, Brady… We’re the ones you should be afraid of.”

***

Brady scoffed, and Sam stalked forward with the demon-killing blade.

The anger in him was a wild thing, and he could feel his hold on it slipping. He struggled against it, wanting to control it. But all it wanted to do was unleash hell on the bastard who had ruined his life.

Brady smiled. “I bet this is a real moment for you, big boy. Gonna make you feel all better?”

Before Sam could respond, he caught a glimpse of Chrys out of the corner of his eye. Her arms were wrapped around her middle, and she was hunched over a little, like she was cold. His fury had warmed him, but he realized that it was a little chilly to be outside without a coat.

And just like that, the anger was gone.

_ Gone. _

All he wanted to do was put his jacket around Chrys’s shoulders and take her home. He wanted to put her in a warm bath and rub her shoulders, whispering to her about how much he loved her and how pretty she was. Then he wanted to wrap her in a blanket and watch her fall asleep next to him, marvelling at how such a slim frame could be creating a person as they lay there.

So he stepped forward quickly, suddenly irritated that this task was standing between he and Chrys. Brady’s eyes widened, and before he could open his mouth, Sam slammed the knife into his gut, holding the body upright until he was sure the thing was dead. Once he was, he let it drop dispassionately and bent down to wipe the blood on the knife onto the dead man’s coat.

“Sorry, Brady,” Sam said gently. “I would have saved you if I could have.”

He stood and tossed the knife to Dean, who caught it easily. Sam shrugged his coat off and approached Chrys, swinging it around and draping it around her.

She smiled up at him. “Thanks, Sammy.”

He used the lapels of the coat to bring her close and press his lips to hers. “Let’s go to bed, beautiful.”

***

Chrys lay next to Sam that night, feeling as loved as she ever had in her life. She had sensed the shift in him in the alley. He’d gone from wanting to take revenge to wanting to take care of  _ her. _ Knowing that somehow he needed this, she had gone along with it without a word.

He had brought her into the motel room that they were sharing with Dean, then immediately led her to the bathroom. He’d taken a hot shower with her, just holding her, never making a move to touch her in a sexual way. He’d even gently dried her hair when they were done. She’d let him drop his t-shirt over her head, then wrap her in a blanket and carry her to bed.

She was nestled close, her face pressed against his shoulder. She breathed in his scent deeply, savoring his heat, his strong chest, his thick arm beneath her head as a pillow, and the tender way his other hand rest on her hip.

“Chrys,” he said huskily.

She looked up at him sleepily, damn near halfway to dreamland. “Hmm?”

He looked down at her, then lifted his hand from her hip to cup her face. “Chrys…”

She frowned a little. “What’s wrong, Sammy?”

Her eyes widened at the look in his eye, the blatant adoration written on his face. “Sam…”

“I love you,” he said roughly. “I love you, I just wanted you to hear it, and it’s okay if you don’t say it back, I get it, I just-”

“I love you, too, idiot,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes and her hand fisting in his shirt. “I always have.”

The whole world seemed to hold its breath for a moment, then he leaned down to press his lips gently to hers. She kissed him back softly, just letting herself enjoy the way he felt against her for a moment, and letting his words roll around in her head.

_ I love you. I love you. I love you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I am so sorry this update took so long. It has been a really rough week for me, anxiety/depression- AND just regular life-wise. I will try to make sure we never go this long between updates again, at least not without some warning, lol.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	28. I Have Never Ridden a Bike

Chrys sat in the kitchen, letting a cup of tea warm her hands while she listened to the Winchesters argue around her.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dean snapped.

“Dean-“ Sam started.

“ Don’t you ‘Dean’ me. I mean, you, you have had some  _ stupid _ ideas in the past, but this.” Chrys ignored Dean when he glared at her. “Did you know about this?”

She sipped her tea, but said nothing, and kept her gaze away from his.

Dean switched targets to Bobby. “Did  _ you _ know about this?”   


Bobby frowned. “What?”   


“About Sam’s genius plan to cram the devil down his throat.”   


Bobby nodded, and Dean threw his hands in the air. “Well, thanks for the heads up!”   


Bobby rolled over to sit next to Chrys. “Hey, this ain’t about me. Or Chrys, so leave us out of it.”   


Dean turned back to Sam. “You can’t do this.”   


Sam nodded. “That’s the consensus.”   


Dean nodded. “All right. That’s awesome. Then, end of discussion.” Dean’s phone rang, and he pointed at Sam as he dug it out of his pocket. “This isn’t over. Hello?”   


He wandered away, and Sam put a hand on Chrys’s shoulder. She looked up at him and smiled. “That went well.”   


Sam chuckled. “Yeah, about as well as I expected it to, anyway.”   


She leaned into his leg when he stood next to her, taking her cup of tea with her. “He’ll come around, Sam,” she said softly, closing her eyes when he began threading his big fingers through her hair.   


This was strange territory for Chrys. She wanted to encourage him, because she could feel that he almost…  _ Wanted _ to do this. Sam thought this would redeem him, and she disagreed, he was already redeemed. Sam thought this was the only plan, and she agreed. At least, she couldn’t think of anything better. So, as much as she hated it, as much as it made her cry in the shower (when she wasn’t showering with Sam), she nodded and smiled and agreed, even as her heart felt like it was tearing out of her chest.   


“Human, wow. Sorry.” she heard Dean say.   


She turned to look at him with a frown. He was nodding into the phone. “All right, well, look, no worries. Bobby’s here, he’ll wire you the cash.”   


Bobby’s eyebrows rose. “I will?”   


Dean ignored him. “Cass, it’s okay. Thank you.” He pulled a bitchface. “I appreciate that,” he said dryly.   


He flipped the phone shut and looked at them evenly. “Okay, back to-“   


Chrys rolled her eyes. “Ugh, shut up. What did Castiel want?”   


Dean sighed. “He had some sort of… Delayed reaction to the situation at the angelic green room. He’s in the hospital. Says he ‘lost consciousness and appeared on a shrimping boat off Delacroix.’”   


Chrys blinked. “Okay, what does all of that mean?”   


Dean shrugged. “He’s human now.”   


***   


They pulled up to the convalescent home that Pestilence was currently residing in. Chrys looked out through the window, wincing. “So this is Dr. Evil’s lair?”   


Sam scoffed. “It’s kind of more depressing than evil.”   


Dean nodded. “It’s like a four-color brochure for dying young. Of course, to Pestilence, it’s probably Dollywood in there.”   


Sam sighed. “Great. A whole building full of people. We don’t know who’s human, who’s demon, and who’s Pestilence. So what do we do?”   


Dean grinned. “I have a plan.”   


Sam nodded, then turned back to Chrys with trepidation on his face. “I don’t suppose you’d stay here?”   


She reached over and opened the door, rolling her eyes. “Eat me, Winchester,” she said with no heat in her words.

***

They walked down the hall, looking for trouble. Chrys was keyed up, ready for battle, and the silence and stillness of the place they were in was grating on her nerves.   
  
Dean found an office that said ‘SECURITY’ on the door, and he stepped in. Chrys and Sam followed.   
  
The security guard turned round in his chair, frowning. Dean put on a charming smile. “Hi. Uh, I’m looking for my Nana. Uh, her name is Eunice Kennedy.”   
  
The guard pointed out the door. “Go around front and see the nurse.”   
  
“You mind just helping us out, sir? Uh, she’s about, uh, about that small, and gray hair, wears diapers.”   
  
Before the man could respond, Dean stepped forward and hit him hard in the face. The guard went down.   
  
Chrys sighed and sat in one of the chairs in front of the security monitors as Sam stared at Dean. “Eunice Kennedy?”   
  
Dean grinned. “That’s the beauty about improv, Sammy. You never know what’s gonna come out of your mouth.”   
  
***   
  
Several hours later, Chrys was in Sam’s lap, her legs across his, her face tucked into his neck, almost completely asleep. She jumped a little when Sam spoke.   
  
“So what are…” She cracked an eye open to see that Dean was almost asleep, too.  _ Poor Sammy’s the only one with staying power, _ she thought as Sam leaned over and kicked Dean’s chair.   
  
“Hey.” Dean jumped awake and looked at Sam. “What are we even looking for?”   
  
Dean scrubbed a hand down his face. “Well, he’s Pestilence, so he probably looks sick.”   
  
Chrys scoffed. “Everybody looks sick.”   
  
Sam stiffened and pointed at a monitor. “Hey.”   
  
The picture had become distorted and staticky, and Dean nodded. “Oh, now we’re talking.”   
  
They stood, and Sam turned to her. “What can I do to convince you to stay here?”   
  
She brushed past him out to the hallway. “Nothing, Sam, come on.”   
  
He groaned behind her and she led the way down the hallway, scanning open rooms and closed doors alike. Her stomach felt heavy, but she felt lighter at the same time. It was good to be back in action, especially after having the Winchesters following her around telling her to sit down for three weeks.   
  
As they rounded a corner, she noticed them both slow down. She frowned at Sam’s back, and fear started to curl in her belly when his shoulders hunched a little, which told her he was coughing. When she looked over at Dean, he was the same.   
  
“Guys,” she said softly, “We’re getting close.”   
  
Sam nodded. “Yeah, stay behind me, Chrys.”   
  
She rolled her eyes. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” she snapped, grabbing their arms on either side of her and pulling them behind her. “You stay behind me.”   
  
Sam straightened up, as did Dean, and she frowned. “Why is this working? I was susceptible to Famine.”   
  
“But not to War,” Sam said, coming up to put a hand on her shoulder.   
  
Dean shrugged. “Probably exploited the chink in your armor, Chrys. You already had an addiction goin’ in, that’s why he was able to use it.”   
  
She nodded. “Well, whatever it is, let’s be grateful it seems to be working on Pestilence, and let’s go get that damn ring.”   
  
They followed her down the hallway after Dean handed her the shotgun he’d been holding. When they rounded a second corner, they came upon the bodies of a nurse and a doctor. Chrys frowned. “God dammit,” she muttered, angry.   
  
This place was far too similar to the place her mother lived, as far as Chrys was concerned.  _ Who preys on the weak? Bastards, that’s who. Bastards prey on the weak. _   
  
They came to the room they had seen Pestilence in, and Chrys knocked on it using the shotgun. A demon opened the door, smiling. Her smile faltered when she realized that the three of them were still standing, perfectly fine.   
  
“Uh…”   
  
“Sam! Chrys! Dean!” The tall, thin man behind the demon shouted. “So glad you could make it. You seem… Well…” He faltered, too, when he saw them.   
  
Chrys smiled. “Yeah, go ahead and feel free to go fuck yourself. We’re here for the ring.”   
  
He stared at her hard for a long few moments, and she broke into a light sweat. Her eyes widened.  _ He’s trying to make me sick. _   
  
Unconsciously, Chrys’s mind went to the child she was carrying. When it did, a fierce protectiveness and a wild anger swept through her. She glared at the Horseman in front of her, and let her anger wrap around her and the Winchesters.  _ No. _   
  
He blinked, and then glared. “You self-righteous little bitch-“   
  
Chrys cut him off by shooting him in the chest. “Fuck you.”   
  
Pestilence flew backwards, and the demon who had opened the door snarled. Chrys heard Sam start to mutter an exorcism, but the demon smoked out before they could finish it.   
  
Chrys scowled and stalked forward toward the Horseman, letting her anger lead her. She held a hand out to Dean. “Knife,” she said curtly.   
  
She heard the smile in his voice. “Yes, doctor,” he said mockingly as he pressed the blade into her hand.   
  
She rolled her eyes and leaned down to Pestilence. He met her eyes, glowering. “It doesn’t matter. It’s too late.”   
  
Chrys thought about saying something clever, but realized that she really just wanted to be done with it. So she leaned forward and cut all four fingers off of the hand with the ring on it. Overkill, maybe, but she felt better for it.   
  
***   
  
They were back at Bobby’s place, in the study, and Chrys wished vehemently that she could get a drink.   
  
“Well, it’s nice to actually score a homerun for once, ain’t it?” Bobby asked. When the three of them just looked at him, he frowned. “What?”   
  
“The last thing Pestilence said,” Chrys answered, “’It’s too late.’”   
  
“He get specific?”   
  
Sam shook his head and came to wrap an arm around Chrys. “No.”   
  
“We’re just a little freaked out that he might have left a bomb somewhere,” Dean said, “So please, tell us you have  _ actual _ good news.”   
  
Bobby nodded. “Chicago’s about to be wiped off the map. Storm of the millennium. Sets off a daisy chain of natural disasters. Three million people are gonna die.”   
  
Dean’s brow furrowed. “Huh.”   
  
The newly human Castiel frowned. “I don’t understand your definition of good news.”   
  
Bobby shrugged. “Well… Death, the Horseman… He’s gonna be there. And if we can stop him before he kickstarts this storm, get his ring back-“   
  
Dean scoffed. “Yeah, you make it sound so easy.”   
  
“Hell, I’m just trying to put a spin on it.”   
  
“Bobby, how did you put all of this together?” Chrys asked, impressed again by the older hunter’s prowess.   
  
He shrugged again, but didn’t meet her eyes. “I had… You know… Help.”   
  
“Don’t be so modest.”   
  
Chrys jumped at the sound of Crowley’s voice behind her. With a growl, Sam wrapped his arm around her and moved so he was between her and the demon. She rolled her eyes at his possessiveness, but it did leave a warm little glow in her heart that she would  _ never _ admit to  _ anyone _ .  _ Ever. _   
  
Crowley looked smug. “I barely helped at all. Hello boys, my lady. Pleasure, et cetera.” He looked at Bobby. “Go ahead. Tell them. There’s no shame in it.”   
  
Sam frowned and turned to Bobby. “Tell us what?”   
  
Bobby still refused to meet anyone’s gaze, and Chrys’s eyes narrowed. “World’s gonna end… Seems stupid to get all precious over one little… Soul.”   
  
Dean stood, furious. “You sold your  _ soul?” _   
  
“Oh, more like pawned it,” Crowley said amicably. “I fully intend to give it back.”   
  
Chrys frowned. “Then give it back.”   
  
Crowley shook his head. “I will.”   
  
“Now!” Dean shouted.   
  
“Did you kiss him?” Sam asked. Chrys smacked him on the chest. He shrugged. “What? Just wondering.”   
  
“No!” Bobby snapped.   
  
In response to this, Crowley held up a cell phone, which featured a photo of he and Bobby kissing.   
  
Bobby scowled. “Why’d you take a picture?”   
  
Crowley cocked an eyebrow. “Why’d you use tongue?”   
  
Chrys wrinkled her nose. “For shame, Bobby.” Sam chuckled.   
  
Dean, however, was not amused. “All right. You know what? I’m sick of this. Give him back his soul.  _ Now.” _   
  
“I’m sorry, I can’t.”   
  
“Can’t, or won’t?” Chrys asked.   
  
_ “Won’t, _ all right?” the demon snapped. “It’s insurance.”   
  
“What are you talking about?” Dean snarled.   
  
“You kill demons. Gigantor over there has a temper issue about it. But you won’t kill  _ me… _ As long as I have that soul in the deposit box.”   
  
“You son of a bitch.”   
  
***   
  
Later, after realizing that the Croatoan virus was in the swine flu vaccines that were going to be sent out, Chrys was loading the truck with Castiel and Bobby.   
  
Castiel looked distressed. “Cass, what’s wrong?” Chrys asked, putting another bag of ammunition in the back. Sam had given her a bitchface for carrying the heavy stuff, and she had ignored it, per the usual.   
  
“This… This is what they mean by ‘the eleventh hour,’ right?”   
  
She nodded. “Pretty much.”   
  
He sighed. “Well, it’s the eleventh hour, and I am useless. All I have is this.” He waved the shotgun in his hand. “What am I even supposed to do with it?”   
  
She stared at him. “Point it and shoot, Cass. You shoot people with it.”   
  
He siged. “What I used to be-“   
  
Seeing that Bobby was approaching, Chrys smacked the angel on the arm. “Shut up about what you used to be. Bobby’s coming.” At his further distressed look, she softened. “Castiel, you’ll be fine. You can do this, you’re a soldier. It’s like riding a bike.”   
  
He frowned. “I have never ridden a bike.”   
  
She groaned. “Jesus help me.”   
  
***   
  
Later, with Bobby driving (which he had insisted on after Crowley gave him the use of his legs back), Chrys sat in the backseat and listened to Castiel and Sam talk.   
  
“’Yes’ to Lucifer,” the angel said thoughtfully. “Then jump in the hole. It’s an interesting plan.”   
  
Chrys snorted in unison with Bobby. “That’s a word for it,” Bobby growled.   
  
Sam sighed. “So? Go ahead, tell me it’s the worst plan you ever heard.”   
  
“Of course. I am happy to say that, if that’s what you want to hear. But it’s not what I think.”   
  
Chrys’s eyebrows raised, and Sam turned around to stare at the angel. “Really?”   
  
Cass shrugged. “You and Dean have a habit of… Exceeding my expectations. He resisted Michael. Maybe you could resist Lucifer. But there are things that you would need to know.”   
  
“Like?”   
  
“Michael has found another vessel.”   
  
Chrys sat up. “What?”   
  
Castiel nodded. “It’s Adam. You must have considered it.”   
  
Sam winced. “We were trying not to.”   
  
Cass put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Sam… If you say yes to Lucifer and fail… This fight  _ will _ happen. And the collateral… It’ll be immense. There’s also the demon blood.”   
  
Chrys frowned. “What are you talking about?”   
  
“To take in Lucifer. It would be more than you’ve ever drunk.”   
  
Sam seemed to pale. “But… Why?”   
  
“It strengthens the vessel. Keeps it from exploding.”   
  
“But the guy he’s possessing now-“ Chrys protested.   
  
“Drinking gallons of it,” Cass interrupted.   
  
“And  _ how _ is that not the worst plan you ever heard?” Bobby asked from the front.   
  
***   
  
Bobby was looking at the Niveus Pharmaceuticals warehouse through binoculars. “Yup, they’re loading up hotshots of Croatoan in the trucks.” He put the binoculars down. “Okay, first truck don’t leave for an hour. We get in, we plant the C-4 every twenty-five feet, then we pull the fire alarm.”   
  
Castiel pointed. “That truck is leaving.”   
  
Bobby looked. “Balls! Okay, we go in now.”   
  
Chrys nodded and reached for her gun, but Sam stopped her with a hand reaching over the back seat.   
  
When she met his brown eyes, anger started to burn beneath the surface. “You’re gonna hate me for this,” Sam said regretfully.   
  
“Don’t you dare.”   
  
He pitched his voice low. “Chrys, stay here. Be safe. I want you to stay here until I get back, or until you think we’re all dead. If that happens, take the truck and run. Okay?”   
  
She struggled to move against the order, but felt herself drop the gun and sit low in the backseat instead. “Fine,” she spat, “but you’re going to want to watch your limbs when you get back, Sam.”   
  
He smiled. “I know.” He kept her gaze for a moment. “I love you.”   
  
Against her will, she melted a little. “You, too, softie. Now go. Save people.”   
  
***   
  
It was really only a few minutes by herself when a man appeared in the seat next to her out of thin air.   
  
Chrys squeaked and jumped back, blinking. “Um-“   
  
“Hello, Chrysanthemum,” he said.   
  
She blinked, then looked at him carefully, examining the power emanating from him. “You’re a Horseman. Are you… Are you Death?”   
  
He nodded. “I am, indeed.”   
  
Chrys thought about it, then took it in stride.  _ Why not? _ “What can I do for you?”   
  
He sighed and looked forward. “Nothing, I assume. I find myself in a predicament. Your… Situation… Is unfair.  _ Very _ unfair. I find myself compelled to assist.”   
  
She blinked. “Why?”   
  
He looked at her again. “I have been asking myself that very same question. I have not found a satisfactory answer.”   
  
She nodded. “Okay, um, what do you want to ‘assist’ me with?”   
  
“I can break the bond that ties you to Lucifer.”   
  
She outright stared at him, shock cascading through her system. She tried to shake her head to clear it, but that didn’t work. So she leaned forward to touch his hand, still blatantly gawking.  _ “What?” _   
  
He, however, was looking at where her hand touched his. “Not many people would touch Death, you know.”   
  
She shrugged. “Well, life hasn’t been good to me. Death doesn’t scare me a bit.” She bit her lip. “Can you really break the bond?”   
  
He nodded.  _ Maybe War wasn’t lying, after all, _ she thought, dazed.   
  
Then she frowned. “Why would you? Why do you want to help me?”   
  
“Because, quite frankly, that temper tantrum throwing child has gotten under my skin. Because, as I said, I am compelled to try to neutralize an extremely unfair life. And, of course, anything to defy Lucifer.”   
  
“Would it… Would it break my bond to Sam?”   
  
“It would no longer be painful to be away from him, and you will not be under his order. It may actually save your life when Sam goes into the fiery pit. And that of your child.”   
  
She stared at him for a long time, ignoring the sounds of gunfire and explosions in the warehouse.   
  
“Well, Chrysanthemum? What say you?”   
  
***   
  
After the successful prevention of the zombie apocalypse, Sam sat in the backseat with Chrys while she slept on his chest. He had one leg stretched along the seat, and she was nestled between his legs, her head resting just under his chin. He’d tilted back enough to let her lay on him.   
  
She had been… Surprisingly okay when they’d gotten back to the truck. He had not, as she had warned, had to watch his limbs. She’d just asked softly that he sit in the back with her, then crawled into his lap and cuddled with him.   
  
It was weird.   
  
_ She may be planning to kill me. _   
  
_ Or, you idiot, _ he thought nastily to himself,  _ she’s in love with you, and you just volunteered to go to hell. Maybe she’s upset. _   
  
Sam sighed and pressed his lips to her hair.   
  
_ She’ll be okay, _ he told himself, willing himself to believe.   
  
_ She’ll be okay without me. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	29. We're in This Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING***  
> All right, beautiful readers. I debated long and hard about this trigger warning, because it's spoilery. But, in the end, your safety is more important to me, always.
> 
> Chrys has a miscarriage in this chapter. It's not CRAZY graphic, but it's definitely described. 
> 
> Chrys has a miscarriage because there's no way that Sam and Chrys would keep hunting with the baby around. That would mean the end of this story, and I'm not quite ready for that. So, unfortunately, the baby can't stay.
> 
> BUT! There is a ray of hope!
> 
> No matter how much I want Chrys and Sam to stick around, I couldn't get the idea of the baby out of my head... So I'm writing the alternate ending, too! I put it in a series, it'll be called "What Could Have Been - Alternate Ending to I Won't Love You." It will be extremely similar to this story for the first few chapters, then will branch off, and will end rather quickly. I'm hoping to wrap it up satisfactorily, though.
> 
> So, read this one (but please, PLEASE, be safe). Or click over and read What Could Have Been. :)
> 
> And, as always, thanks for sticking with Sam, Chrys, and I.

Chrys was curled up next to Sam, her head on his chest. She drew random lines on his flat, muscled stomach, listening to his heartbeat and hurting. 

His hand was running through her hair. It would have been comforting if she wasn’t so heartbroken.

“Chrys, I’m sorry,” he rumbled softly, for the hundredth time that night.

“I know, Sam,” she replied, also for the hundredth time that night.

He sighed. “Chrys, I-”

“Please stop,” she said softly, tears in her eyes. “Sam, I can’t hear you apologize again. So, just, please stop.”

He hauled her up to rest on his chest, and she gazed down at him. His strong, handsome face, his lovely hair, his broad shoulders. His chest that had little droplets of water on it now.  _ Dammit, keep it together, Summers. _

“Chrys, it’s okay,” he said softly, brushing the hair from her face.

She shook her head. “No, it’s not. This isn’t helping.”

He smiled. “Chrys, you don’t have to be so hard on yourself.”

_ Oh, Sam. _ She thought her heart would burst with the love she had for the man beneath her. He was facing an eternity in hell, trapped in a cage with the devil, and here he was, reassuring her.

“Sam,” she said softly, “Shut up and kiss me.”

He examined her face for a moment, then wrapped his head around the back of her neck and pulled her close. He leaned up and met her in the middle, kissing her passionately. She sighed into his mouth and responded gently, lovingly. Tonight, she would love him.

She pulled away and kissed her way down his neck, shuddering when his hand tightened in her hair. She kissed her way down his chest, pausing to lav each nipple with her tongue, smiling when he moaned deep in his throat.

She kissed her way down that muscled stomach, highlighting each ridge with teeth and tongue. She nipped at his hip bones a little harder, smiling again when he thrust up helplessly.

She moved around his straining cock, kissing her way down his strong thighs. When she got there, she started at one knee and licked and nipped her way up to his inner thigh. She sucked a dark mark into him there, knowing it was unfair, unable to help herself.  _ If he’s going to hell, he’s going there marked as mine. _

She did the same to the other leg, and when she was back up where he wanted her again, he was panting and straining, struggling to hold onto his control. She smiled, looking up possessively at all of his leashed strength and power.  _ Mmm, mine. _

She pressed a kiss to the underside of his thick cock, moaning softly when it jumped against her lips. She gave him one long lick from base to tip, then finally took him into her mouth.

She pulled just the tip in first, sucking hard and whirling her tongue around it. She pressed gently into the slit there, tasting his precome, whimpering at the essence of him. She slowly moved all the way down, hollowing her cheeks, until her nose was pressed against the hair there, thanking everything she could thank that a gag reflex wasn’t a problem for her.

When breathing  _ did _ become a problem, she slowly moved up until he was barely in her mouth again. She kept up her hard suction, moving up and down, slowly increasing her pace. His big, hard hand fisted in her hair was such a turn-on, she couldn’t help the soft whimpers in the back of her throat.

“Fuck, Chrys, please-” he begged softly, and she relished the control she had over him.

She pulled off of him with a pop, smiling when he gasped at the feeling. She moved up his body, pressing kisses and nips here and there until she was licking the shell of his ear. “Tell me you want me,” she whispered, moving to press against him.

“I want you, Chrys, I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you, beautiful,” he said hoarsely.

She moved up and sank down a couple of inches onto him. “Tell me I’m beautiful, Sam,” she whispered, pausing where she was.

“You’re beautiful, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

She smiled and pressed a kiss to his ear. “Tell me you love me, Sammy,” she whispered, fighting the tears in her eyes.

He turned and caught her lips with his. “I love you, Chrys,” he murmured against her mouth. “I love you so fucking much, beautiful.”

“Then show me.”

He wrapped an arm around her and turned so she was beneath him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and ran her hands up his stomach, sniffling and trying to stem her tears again.

He rested his weight on one arm and used his other hand to cup her face, wiping her tears with his thumb. “Come on, baby, don’t cry,” he murmured, pressing kisses to her cheeks. “Come on, Chrys, be with me.”

She moved her hips up and moaned. “Take me, Sam,” she said softly.

He obliged by sinking into her slowly, lovingly. She gasped at the stretch, then cried out softly when he bottomed out. “Sam!”

He pressed a kiss to her ear. “Shh, baby, they’ll hear you.”

She whimpered and rolled her hips against him. “Let them hear me, Sam, please-”

He cut her off by thrusting into her again, setting a fast pace. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear and she writhed beneath him, her nails scoring down his back.

He shifted and moved his hand down her body, tweaking her nipple on the way down to her core. She gasped when his fingers found her clit and started slow circles.  _ “Sam!” _

“Come for me, baby, I love you, I want to feel you come-”

His words sent her over the edge, and she reached up and bit his shoulder, her teeth very close to the scar she had already left on his shoulder. She screamed into his skin, bucking beneath him, relishing the feel of him stiffening above her as he spilled into her.

He gasped and rolled to the side, breathing heavily, taking her with him. She buried her face in his chest, listening to his breathing slow, soaking him in, saving up the essence of him.

She was going to need it.

***

The next night, they stood outside the building that Lucifer was in. Chrys could feel his power as she stood aside to let Sam say what he had to to the others gathered there.   
  
She had stayed with him during the draining of the demon blood, during the ride there, when he made Dean promise to leave the hunting life after Sam was in the cage. She noticed that no such promise was extracted from her, but she wasn’t upset. She understood.   
  
She wasn’t making it out of this, either.   
  
She turned to see him emptying the last jug of demon blood into his mouth. She met his hazel eyes, and hated the sorrow she saw there. She walked to him and waited until he had put it down to put a hand on his face. “Sam, stop,” she said softly. “It’s a little late for apologies and puppy dog eyes.”   
  
He sighed and raised a hand to wipe his mouth, but before he could, she went on tiptoe and kissed him, blood and all. She licked it from his lips and kissed him hard. It took him a second to catch up, but catch up he did, and he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her thoroughly.   
  
She broke away and leaned back, reaching up to wipe her mouth gently, then doing the same for him. “No more, Sam, we’re in this together, okay?”   
  
He nodded, the look on his face making her heart beat faster. “Okay, Chrys,” he said softly. “I love you.”   
  
She smiled. “I love you, too. Let’s go.”   
  
***   
  
She stood between Sam and Dean, her back straight, her head held high. For all the bad stuff, for all of the shitstorm that was what was about to happen, she was Chrysanthemum  _ Goddamn _ Summers, and she would  _ not _ cower in front of Lucifer.   
  
They walked towards the building, and Sam started shouting. “All right! We’re here, you sons of bitches! Come and fucking get it!”   
  
Three demons exited the building, and she saw Dean smile. “Hey, guys. Is your father home?”   
  
The bodyguards came forward and grabbed Sam and Dean, pulling their arms behind their backs. The third approached Chrys, but before he lay a hand on her, she cocked an eyebrow haughtily. “Think it’s a good idea to manhandle Lucifer’s bride, do you?” she asked coolly, every inch the woman that Sam and Dean had met a year ago, and not the soft mother-to-be she had become.   
  
_ Going to have to get rid of her. _   
  
She sighed and strode forward, pushing the demon out of the way. “Take us to Lucifer, idiots.”   
  
When they walked in, the free demon gestured to the stairs. Chrys led the way, and when she got to the top, she saw Lucifer there, smiling at her. “Chrysanthemum, gentlemen. How nice of you to join me.”   
  
He turned and breathed onto the window pane behind him. He started to draw a pitchfork in the condensation. “Sorry if it’s a bit chilly,” he said softly. “Most people think I burn hot. It’s actually quite the opposite.”   
  
Chrys rolled her eyes. “Cut the drama queen act, Luci. Let’s get this over with.”   
  
Lucifer turned to look at her. She winced. “You’re getting worse, Luci,” she said softly.   
  
He ignored her to look at Sam. “Help me understand something, guys. I mean, stomping through my front door is… A tad suicidal, don’t you think?”   
  
Sam shook his head. “We’re not here to fight you.”   
  
Lucifer tilted his head to the side. “No? Then why are you?”   
  
Sam took a deep breath. “I want to say yes.”   
  
Lucifer’s eyes widened, and Chrys saw the dangerous hunger there. “Excuse me?”   
  
Sam took another deep breath and closed his eyes. The three demons surrounding them dropped dead in flashes of light. The dark part of Chrys wanted Sam after the display of power, the rest of her was just tired.   
  
Lucifer was smiling. “Chock full of Ovaltine, are we?”   
  
Sam glared. “You heard me. Yes.”   
  
Lucifer sobered. “You’re serious.”   
  
“Look, Judgment Day’s a runaway train. We get it now. We just want off.”   
  
Lucifer’s eyebrows rose. “Meaning?”   
  
“Deal of the century. I give you a free ride, but when it’s all over, I live, she lives, he lives, you bring our parents back-“   
  
“Sam, stop,” Chrys said softly, examining the devil. “He’s not buying it. He knows.”   
  
Sam blinked. “What?”   
  
Lucifer clapped softly. “Good girl.” He looked at Sam. “The Horsemen’s rings? The magic keys to my cage? Ring a bell? Come on, Sam. I’ve never lied to you. You could at least pay me the same respect.” He waved a hand. “It’s okay, I’m not mad. A wrestling match inside your noggin… I like the idea. Just you and me, one round, no tricks. You win, you jump in the hole. I win… Well, then, I win. What do you say, Sam?” He smirked. “A fiddle of gold against your soul says I’m better than you.”   
  
Chrys rolled her eyes.  _ Drama queen. _   
  
Sam steeled himself. “So he knows. Doesn’t change anything.”   
  
Dean grabbed his arm. “Sam.”   
  
Sam shook him off. “We don’t have any other choice.”   
  
“No!” Dean snapped.   
  
Sam looked at Lucifer. “Yes.”   
  
Lucifer closed his eyes and bright light started to emanate them. Chrys turned her head away as the light shined bright. When she turned back, Sam’s body was motionless on the floor, and as soon as he stirred, she knew.   
  
Dean took the Horsemen’s rings out of his pocket, but she pulled them out of his hand and wrapped her fingers around them. “Dean, it’s not him,” she said softly, fighting the tears in her eyes. “Sam didn’t win.”   
  
Lucifer, wearing Sam’s face, sat up and smirked. “Why do you always ruin all the fun, Chrysanthemum?”   
  
She glared. “Fuck you.”   
  
He smiled. “All right, have it your way, darling.” He stood, then held his hand out to her. “Come here, Chrysanthemum.”   
  
She didn’t fight it. There was no use. She slid her slender hand into his broad one, and the cold emanating from it, where it used to be so warm, almost took her out at the knees. Instead, she steeled herself and stood next to him.   
  
But, like usual, Lucifer had to have the last word.   
  
He looked at Dean. “I told you, this would always happen in Detroit.”

The world dipped away from her.

  
***   
  
When Chrys opened her eyes, they were in the lush bedroom he’d brought her to before. She sighed and pulled her hand from his. “So, when’s the showdown?” she asked without preamble.   
  
He smirked and watched her move around the room. Seeing Sam’s face, her sweet Sam, distorted with Lucifer’s cold features was killing her, so she turned away to look around the room.   
  
“So eager to see me defeat Michael, Chrysanthemum?”   
  
She shrugged. “Eager for it to be over.”   
  
He was at her back now, and she could feel the cold coming off of him in waves. “Well, we have all night tonight,” he said softly, one hand coming up to stroke her arm gently, making her shiver. “I’m sure we can think of something to do.”   
  
“What if I say no?” she asked softly, with no fear. “Will you rape me?”   
  
His hand stilled, and he gently used his grip on her arm to turn her around to face him. He cupped her face with his hand, and she couldn’t help leaning into the cool touch. It wasn’t Sam, but it was enough of Sam to have her yearning.   
  
“Chrysanthemum,” he said seriously. “I would never rape you. I will never do anything to you that I do not have permission for.”   
  
She gazed up into the cool hazel eyes and saw the truth there. Lucifer wouldn’t rape her, or force her to do anything. No, he would probably have her begging for it before long, but he wouldn’t do anything to her she didn’t want him to.   
  
Maybe it was that, maybe it was the smidge of Sam she saw in those eyes. Maybe it was the ache in her at the loss of her soulmate, the grief that was starting to build in her heart. Maybe it was because she was so damn tired of fighting that little dark Chrys inside of her, that little part of her that was jumping for joy that Lucifer was here, and they could finally touch him.   
  
But in that moment, for the first time in her life, though Chrys would never tell anyone, she felt complete. She and the dark part of her agreed on at least one thing. Both of Chrys’s men, for they  _ were _ hers, regardless of how they came to be that way, were with her, in the same body, staring down at her with heat in those hazel eyes.   
  
So she raised up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his.   
  
***   
  
Sam watched in horror as his woman pressed against him. He fought against Lucifer’s hold on his body, but to no avail. He couldn’t beat him, even as he felt Lucifer’s tongue brush across Chrys’s bottom lip, asking for permission.   
  
Sam sensed the truth of Lucifer’s words. He wouldn’t rape Chrys. He would never rape Chrys.   
  
He would hurt her until she was pleading for it, but he wouldn’t rape her.   
  
Sam struggled harder against the hold that Lucifer had on his mind, until Lucifer’s voice came to him, crystal clear.   
  
_ I’m going to turn you away now, Sam. This is between my bride and I. _   
  
Sam started screaming as all of his perception went dark and still.   
  
***   
  
Chrys wound her arms around Lucifer’s neck and kissed him back, opening for him when he ran his tongue along her bottom lip. He swept into her mouth, his big hands resting at her hips, and she sighed, reveling in the feel of being one with herself, wishing it was with someone else, glad that it was him.   
  
_ Being one with yourself is confusing. _   
  
He ran one of those hands along her waist, and when his fingers brushed her belly, her heart stuttered to a stop and her brain short-circuited.   
  
She gasped and stepped away from him, tearing her mouth from his. “No,” she said softly, “No, no, no.”   
  
When he stepped forward, she took another step back, one hand held out, the other on her stomach. She was making it obvious, but she couldn’t seem to help it.   
  
“What’s wrong, Chrysanthemum?” he asked gently. “What happened?”   
  
She shook her head. “Nothing, Luci, please, just… No. Not right now.” she managed to pull her hand away from her belly and held it out, too.   
  
When she looked up at him, an expression of understanding had settled onto his face. “Ah,” he said gently. “You’re worried about the baby.”   
  
Everything in her stilled, and she felt her eyes go wide. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”   
  
He laughed. He  _ actually _ laughed. “Please, Chrysanthemum, I  _ know.” _ He smiled. “How could you think that any little part of your lovely body could change, and I wouldn’t notice it?”   
  
She glared at him. “Lucifer, nothing has changed. I don’t know what ‘baby’ you’re talking about-“   
  
He was suddenly across the room, in her space, pressed against her. One hand was on her hip, the other wrapped around the back of her head, pressing her face into his chest. “Chrys,” he said through gritted teeth, his words muffled by the way his mouth was pressed to her hair. “Did you really think I wouldn’t realize you’ve been  _ shacking up _ with someone  _ else?” _   
  
He was breathing hard, and she felt real fear start to curl in her stomach. “Lucifer, I-“   
  
He squeezed her hard. “Shut up, Chrys,” he said softly, dangerously, and she felt tears start to well in her eyes. “Now, I’m a very forgiving husband, I’m willing to overlook your little…  _ Indiscretion.” _   
  
She tried to pull away, but he held her fast. “It wasn't an indiscretion, Sam and I are soulmates,” she whispered fiercely.   
  
He squeezed her hip hard enough to make her whimper.  _ Gonna leave bruises, _ she thought weakly.   
  
“I thought I told you to shut the fuck up, Chrys,” he snarled. “Now, like I was saying, before I was so  _ rudely interrupted,” _ he snapped, squeezing her again until she almost cried out, “I can forgive one indiscretion.”   
  
He finally released her enough to let her look up at his face. He looked down at her with an almost kind expression on his.   
  
“What I can’t forgive, of course, is you carrying someone else’s seed.”   
  
She jerked back, trying to fight him, but he was Lucifer, and it was impossible. So she was held fast by his power, unable to do anything to protect her child but watch as his hand came to rest gently on her lower abdomen.   
  
“You’re  _ mine, _ Chrys,” he said gently, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “Remember that.”   
  
His hand got colder, if possible, and she felt pain start to rip at her belly. She gasped, and felt blood start to trickle between her legs. “Lucifer,  _ please,” _ she said softly, “Please, don’t-“   
  
“Hush now, Chrys,” he said softly, pressing his lips to her forehead again, “It’s almost over.”   
  
Chrys felt the moment that her daughter died, and then she felt something else.   
  
The dark part of her, the part of her who had celebrated Lucifer’s rising and kissed him hard and made Chrys roll her hips against the devil when he touched her, that part of her had had at least one thing in common with Chrys.   
  
She had  _ loved _ the child they were carrying.   
  
So for the second time in her life, Chrys felt whole. All of the little pieces of her were grieving a child who wouldn’t be born, a child with chestnut hair and bright blue eyes. All of the little pieces of her were dying.   
  
And all of the little pieces of her were  _ pissed. _ She wanted Sam back.   
  
So instead of curling up and crying, or going to find a way to shoot up, or finding a way to kill herself, Chrys stood tall, with the last of the life she’d been carrying running down her legs, and looked Lucifer in the eye.   
  
“That was a mistake, Lucifer.”   
  
His big hand coming up to backhand her was the last thing she saw.   
  
***   
  
Chrys stood with Lucifer in the cemetery, arms wrapped around her middle, eyes on the horizon.

This was it. The big showdown, the prize fight, the apocalypse, Armageddon.   


Armageddon was kind of chilly.   


She sighed and rubbed her hands up and down her arms, wishing it was over already. She wasn’t suicidal, not quite, but if the opportunity came, she wouldn’t step out of the way of a bullet.   


Why would she? Sam was gone, the baby was gone, and Chrys was alone again. And she found that, after basking in the warmth of a family, being alone again was unbearable.   


So when Michael appeared, wearing Adam, she was almost glad.   


_ Good. Almost done. _   


Lucifer turned. “It’s good to see you, Michael.”   


Michael nodded. “You, too. It’s been too long.” He sighed and looked around. “Can you believe it’s finally here?”   


Lucifer shook his head. “No, not really.”   


Michael looked at Lucifer. “Are you ready?” He frowned.   


“As I’ll ever be.” Lucifer paused, and Chrys rolled her eyes at his manipulation. “A part of me wishes we didn’t have to do this.”   


“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Chrys muttered, letting her eyes go back to the horizon.  _ Archangels are thirteen year old girls. Who knew? _   


“Yeah,” Michael said, “Me, too.” She saw him frowning at her from the corner of her eye, but she didn’t meet his gaze. Fuck him.   


“Then why are we?” Lucifer asked, desperation tinging his tone.   


Chrys rolled her eyes again. “Ugh.”   


Michael glared at her. “What are you even doing here?”   


She gave him a winning smile. “I’m here to cheer for Luci and provide comic relief.”   


Michael gave her a long, even look, then, “You are no longer with child.”   


“Don’t speak to her, Michael, she has nothing to do with this,” Lucifer snapped.   


Michael ignored him. “There is no reason for you to be here.”   


Chrys nodded. “I agree.”   


Michael raised a hand. “Very well.”   


Chrys felt a brief, harsh flash of pain at the base of her neck, then nothing.   


***   


_ “Well, Chrysanthemum? What say you?” _ _  
_

_ “Will anything else change?” _ _  
_

_ Death sighed, and she sensed that he was getting tired of her questions.  _ Fuck you, this is my life, _ she thought bitterly. _ _  
_

_ “You will be susceptible to other angels’ powers again. The demons will still probably see you as queen. They tend to be simple creatures, who do not adapt well to change.” _ _  
_

_ She placed a protective hand on her belly. “And… And her?” _ _  
_

_ Death smiled, and she felt comforted and cold at the same time. “The child will be fine, Chrysanthemum. Breaking the bond between you and Lucifer won’t change a thing.” _

_ “Can you… Can you protect her? Make it so he won’t know she’s there?” _

_ Death looked… Grieved. “My powers are not protective ones, Chrysanthemum. They are powers of destruction. I cannot.” _

_ Chrys took a deep breath, thought about it only for a moment, and nodded. _ _  
_

_ “Okay. Do it.” _

***

Chrys woke up on her back, looking up at Castiel, who was kneeling over her. She stared into those blue eyes so similar to hers, and saw all the answers she needed. She felt… Hollowed out. She would have been heartbroken if she had been able to feel anything at all.

She sat up slowly at met Dean’s eyes. Then she looked back at the angel.

“Should have left me dead, Cass,” she whispered as tears she had thought had run out started spilling down her cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I hope I did this chapter justice.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	30. We'll Learn, Though

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING***
> 
> We get rather graphic about some drug use in this chapter, so be careful, lovelies.

Chrys sat in the backseat of the Impala, watching the night fly by and listening to Dean and Castiel talk.

“What are you gonna do now?”

“Return to heaven, I suppose.”

“Heaven?” Dean asked, incredulous.

“With Michael in the cage, I’m sure it’s total anarchy up there,” Castiel explained.

“So, what, you’re the new sheriff in town?”

Castiel smiled a little. “I like that. Yeah. I suppose I am.”

Dean snorted. “Wow. God gives you a brand new, shiny set of wings, and suddenly you’re his bitch again.” Chrys chuckled humorlessly in the backseat.

Cass ignored her to look at Dean. “I don’t know what God wants. I don’t know if he’ll even return. It just… Seems like the right thing to do.”

“Well, if you do see him, you tell him I’m coming for him next.”

“You’re angry.”

Dean snorted. “Fucking understatement.”

“He helped,” the angel protested, “Maybe even more than we realize.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Dean snapped. “He brought  _ you _ back. But what about Sam? What about me, huh? Where’s my grand prize? All I got is my brother in a hole!”

“You got what you asked for, Dean.” Castiel said quietly, imperiously.

He opened his mouth to continue, but Chrys thought she had held her tongue long enough. “What about me, Cass?” she asked softly.

The angel turned to look at her with his big blue eyes, and she met his gaze fearlessly. “What about me? What the fuck has God done for me? What the fuck did  _ I _ ask for, Castiel, Angel of the fucking Lord?”

He stared at her for another moment, then disappeared.

She hmphed. “Pussy.”

***

When Dean got out to say goodbye to Bobby, Chrys got out, too. She was  _ exhausted, _ she just wanted to get her things and go find a motel room to sleep in… Possibly for a year.

When Dean and Bobby were done with their farewells, she smiled at Dean. He pulled her into his arms and crushed her to him, and she hugged him back fiercely.

“Drop you off somewhere, Summers?” he asked gruffly.

She stepped back and smiled at him. “Go find Lisa, Dean. I’ll be fine.”

He stared at her for another moment, then gave her a curt nod. “All right.” He pointed at her. “Take care of yourself, Summers.”

She watched him go with a smile, then took a deep breath and let it out explosively. She turned to Bobby. “I’ll be out of your hair soon, Bobby. Just let me get my stuff.”

He shook his head. “Chrys, you should probably stay and sleep a little. You’re dead on your feet. Not good for the baby.”

The mention of the baby had her eyes filling. His eyes widened in horror. “He didn’t-“

She nodded quickly to interrupt him. She couldn’t hear the words.

He wrapped an arm around her and led her gently to the house. “Come on, girl you know you can stay as long as you need.”

***

Chrys stayed with Bobby for a week after Sam died.

She didn’t go hunting with him. She did answer the phone when it rang, and discovered that her vast knowledge of the occult, witchcraft, and the supernatural in general was a help to the hunters who were calling. She didn’t mind answering the phone while she was there, but she wanted out of this life.

She wanted a breath of normal. So she called Kevin and Serene, who were delighted to hear from her, devastated to hear about Sam, and absolutely insistent she come stay with them.

So when she knew Bobby was going to come home that night, she cleaned the house, put a very simple dinner in a slow-cooker for him, and left him a note. Then she took one of the cars from the salvage yard (with the promise to send it back in the note), and took off.

***

Kevin and Serene’s home had a very bohemian, hippy-dippy feel, and despite the way she was raised, Chrys would have fallen in love with it immediately if she had been able to feel anything.

Jesse ran out to greet her. “Chrys!”

She  _ wanted _ to be genuinely happy to see him. She  _ wanted _ to be happy to be here, she  _ wanted _ to feel like this was home. But all she felt was empty and nothingness at the same time.

But instead of breaking his poor heart, she laughed and caught him, hugging him close. “Jesse!” She sat back and really looked at him. “Holy shit, you got tall, babe.”

He grinned and nodded. “Yeah!” He turned and ran back to the house. “Kev! Serene! Chrys is here!”

Kevin came out first, smiling at Chrys so brightly he should have lit up the darkness of the night. “Chrys!”

He wrapped her up in a hard hug, then leaned down to whisper in her ear. “How you holdin’ up, baby?”

For some reason, though Dean hadn’t been able to, and Bobby hadn’t been able to, Kevin’s words made her shake. “Um… I’ve been better, Kev,” she said softly. “A lot better.” Her voice broke on the last word.

Without hesitation, Kevin bent and scooped her into his arms. She wanted to protest, because she was too heavy to be being carried around (except by a certain tall, hazel-eyed hunter that she couldn’t think about just then), but she just pressed her face into his chest and let him carry her home.

***

Chrys really liked it there.

Her days were filled with peace, or as peaceful as nothingness could be. She helped Jesse with homework, helped Serene with housework, and rested. Kevin had a job at a local garage, and made enough to let Serene stay home most of the time. If money got tight, she waited tables at the local bar.

Chrys could have been very happy there, if Sam had been with her.

She would turn to tell him something, only to find that he was in hell. She would wonder where he’d gotten off to when she wasn’t thinking, and found that he was in hell. She would reach out to him in the night, wanting to receive and give comfort to the other parent of the child she’d lost, only to find that he was in hell.

It made her restless and bitchy, and she couldn’t help the way she tended to bite off Serene or Kevin’s head on occasion. Jesse was the exception, she never snapped at Jesse, but he knew something was wrong. He was a perceptive kid.

She was also fighting the urge to use. The urge to sink a needle into her arm was something that crossed her mind approximately every hour on the hour. She wanted the oblivion, the stupor, the fading numbness. Sure, she’d still be borderline suicidal, but at least she wouldn’t care so much about it.

And that thought scared her so much she went to NA twice a week for two weeks, then went down to once a week, and kept it there. Just to be safe.

***

On a particularly bitchy night, she decided to spare the little family her company and went out to the bar Serene sometimes worked at. Because if she couldn’t go find a syringe, she could definitely go find a bottle.

When she walked in, the smell wrapped around her comfortingly. Smoke and booze and the tinge of unhappiness that borders the smell of any little bar. She ordered a beer from a very pretty, petite redhead at the bar, then slid into a booth to sulk.

_ This fucking sucks. _

She wondered where Dean was, if he’d found Lisa, if she’d taken him in. Chrys wanted to call him. She realized that Dean was probably her best friend, which was… Irritating.

“Look, Brett, I’m working. Go on and sit at table.”

Chrys was knocked out of her musings by the redhead’s voice, tinged with a little bit of fear. She looked up to see her trying to stare down a man that was at least as tall as Chrys, and who was clearly very drunk.

“Just talk to me,” he insisted, slurring, “You know you want to, Bella.”

He was loud enough to start drawing attention, and Bella’s cheeks started growing pink. Apprehension was clear in the line of her body, but there was also embarrassment. Chrys sensed she was only a few minutes away from giving in so the man would stop making a scene.

Which pissed Chrys off, but she had nothing to do with this situation.

_ Don’t get involved, _ she told herself, even as she was sliding out of the booth and approaching the bar.  _ Not your problem. _

“Hi,” she said softly to Brett, smiling. “Do we have a problem here, Brett?”  _ Fucking Sam, giving me a hero complex. _

He turned and blinked at her. “Listen,” he slurred again, making Chrys wrinkle her nose, “I was talking to her, so don’t you come over here and try to get in the way.”

Chrys held her hands up. “Wouldn’t dream of it, not if you were having a conversation.” She looked over at the tiny redhead.  _ “Were _ you? Having a conversation?”

The woman shook her head minutely. “No, not really, he’s just hitting on me.”

Chrys nodded and looked back at him. “Brett, you lied to me. How could you?”

He stared at her again for a moment. “Huh?”

She rolled her eyes.  _ Sam would have laughed. _ “Look, Brett, I have had a truly fucked up couple of weeks. I mean, you would not  _ believe. _ So I really don’t have the patience to say this more than once. Go walk it off, and violence will not ensue.”

He blinked at her, then his expression became thunderous. “Listen, you little bitch-“ he started, stepping forward and reaching a hand out to grab her arm.

Chrys sighed.  _ Idiot. _ She let his arm come close to her, then grabbed his wrist and used his momentum to send him crashing to the ground. Once he was there, she kept the grip on his wrist and knelt next to him, twisting his arm up high enough on his back to hurt. They had definitely attracted attention now, but Chrys found herself not really caring.

“Look, guy, I warned you. Now, you have two options. I can keep you here until the cops come, or you can go home, sleep it off, and take a long, hard look at your life in the morning.”

“You cunt-“

She sent his arm up higher, not wincing when there was a cracking noise from the vicinity of his elbow. She rolled her eyes. “Rude, Brett,” she said amicably, ignoring his pained cry, “I cannot impress this enough, so listen closely.  _ I will break this fucking arm. _ Do you want that? Because I will do that.”

He was silent and struggling for a few minutes, and Chrys stayed where she was, his arm still twisted painfully up his back. She didn’t particularly care, he’d started it. She was just here to finish it so she could drink in peace.

“Geroff me!” he snapped.

She tilted her head and smiled down at him. “Are you ready to behave? Meaning, of course, are you going to try to deck me as soon as I let you go, or are you going to leave?”

“Don’t wanna drink in this crap bar, anyway,” he said sulkily, and she knew she had him.

Chrys stood and wiped her hands on her skirt, wincing. Brett was sweaty.

He stood and glared at her for a moment, and she glared right back. Chrys had never approved of men using their size to intimidate women, and since she was just about as tall as most of them, that wasn’t an issue for her. “Go, Brett,” she said softly.

He did.

She turned to go back to her table, the situation already having taken longer than she would have liked, when a small hand on her arm had her turning back.

Bella, the short bartender, was standing there, smirking at her. “That was pretty impressive.”

Chrys shrugged. “Should have broken his arm.”  _ Fucking Sam, still making me soft. _

Bella smiled. “What’s your name, so I know what to call my knight in shining armor?”

Chrys snorted. “That’s me, I’m a hero. Chrys. My name is Chrys.”

Bella’s smile became soft, and something in Chrys woke up a little. “Hi, Chrys,” the other woman said gently. “Your next round is on the house.”

***

Chrys started going to the bar more and more often in search of Bella. And a week later, when Bella confessed that she actually owned the bar, she had just been covering because her bartender quit, Chrys found herself hired.

Her days fell into a comfortable routine. She would wake up and make breakfast with Serene in the mornings. After that, she’d load Jesse into the car she had bought (it was beat up, old as sin, had cost only a couple hundred bucks, and she had absolutely loved it on sight) and take him to school. Then she’d go home and rest, or read, or watch TV with Serene. And in the evenings, she worked at the bar.

It was easy, mindless work that she was good at. It chagrined her that the only thing she had any real talent at was mixing drinks, but she enjoyed it, so she let it go.

She’d been there for a few weeks when a very familiar pair of green eyes met hers over her bar.

She blinked, a smile spreading across her face.  _ “Dean? _ Holy shit, what are you doing here?” she asked, walking over to where he was sitting at the bar.

He shrugged. “Thought I’d come check on you, making sure you’re staying out of trouble.”

Chrys smiled and rolled her eyes. “Shut up, softie,” she said easily. She poured him a beer and set it in front of him. “So, how’s Lisa?” she asked, unable to stop smiling.

Dean grinned, and she laughed. “Lisa’s great,” he said vaguely, “So’s Ben.”

“Good!” she smiled. “Did you find a grown up, respectable job?”

“I did,” he said haughtily, “I work in construction.”

She chuckled. “Well, it’s a far cry from salt rounds and sleeping in the Impala, but I suppose it’ll do.”

He grinned again, and they sobered simultaneously. “Seriously, Dean,” she said softly, “Are you okay?”

He shrugged and looked into his beer. “Nightmares,” he said gruffly. “You?”

She nodded. “Yeah, a few.” She let a beat of silence pass, then, “Have you talked to Bobby?”

Dean shook his head slowly. “No, I just, uh…”

“Don’t want to get back into it,” she finished for him. “Yeah, I get that.”

A few moments of surprisingly comfortable silence, then, “So, tell me about the hot redhead.”

Chrys turned to see Bella looking at her through the big office window, eyebrows raised in a question. Chrys shook her head. Her boss was asking if Dean was bothering her, as if Dean could bother anyone, the big softie. Bella nodded and went back to work.

Chrys turned back to the man in question. “Bella, my boss.” She flicked him with the towel in her hand. “Don’t hit on her, I like my job.”

Dean looked at her evenly for a moment, then shook his head. “Chrys, sweetheart, I don’t think  _ I’m _ the one Bell wants to hit on her.”

Chrys blinked. “What?”

He groaned. “Come on, Summers, don’t tell me you’re one of those annoying women who doesn’t realize when someone is into them?”

Chrys looked over at Bella through the office window again.  _ Oh. _

She knew that she had been noticing Bella more than she was noticing other people. She just hadn’t realized that she’d been…  _ Noticing _ Bella.

_ “Oh.” _ Chrys felt herself start to blush. “Oh, holy shit.”

Dean laughed, and she glared at him. “Oh, come on, this is hilarious,” Dean protested, hands held up in defeat.

Chrys was suddenly too scared to look over at the office. “Oh, God, what the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

Dean looked at her for a long moment, then sighed. “Ask her out, Chrys. Go on a date. Be happy for once.”

Suddenly, they were talking about more than just her inability to notice her manager’s interest.

Chrys blinked back tears. “I don’t know how to do that, Dean.”

He nodded, mercifully ignoring her display. “Yeah, me either.” He sighed. “Lisa says we’ll learn, though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **We're gonna have to go down to weekly updates for a while, guys, I'm sorry. I'm in the nonprofit world, specifically animal welfare, and this is both a slow season (which means harried fundraising), and a busy season (lots of little furry ones left out in deadly cold weather), so my life has exploded. <3 I love you guys, as soon as things slow down, we're back to every few days, I promise.  
> **Ahhhh I hurt so much for Chrys.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	31. I'm Empty

Chrys stared at the little closet in her room, pain reverberating through her.   
  
Her emotions had come back full force, and she couldn’t control them. She was so far down she didn’t know how she’d ever come back up. The littlest things set her off. The day before, a tall, muscular man had come into the bar. And even though his hair was cropped short and his eyes were grey, she’d had to excuse herself. For a moment, her heart had been certain he was Sam.   
  
And now, it was her skirts.   
  
_ … God, you’re perfect. The way you move in those damn skirts… _   
  
She couldn’t get Sam’s words out of her head. Or the way his hand would rest on her hip. The way he’d bunched those same skirts up around her and bent her over more pieces of furniture than she could count. Or the loving way he’d press a kiss to her forehead afterwards…   
  
She whimpered low in her throat and fought the grey depression trying to overwhelm her.   
  
_ This has to stop. _   
  
She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life avoiding things that made her think of Sam. Not only did that essentially exclude her from doing anything at all, she  _ liked _ thinking about Sam. She just wanted to think of him fondly, not in a puddle of tears.   
  
_ Something’s gotta give. _   
  
Decision made, she began taking skirts off of hangers.   
  
***   
  
Dressed in leggings and a tunic, which was the most Chys was willing to compromise to avoid jeans, she sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by Kevin, Serene, and a somber Jesse.   
  
“I don’t understand where this is coming from,” Kevin said, clearly trying to control his temper. “I mean, I thought you were doing well here.”   
  
Chrys sighed. “I am, Kev. But I can’t stay here.”   
  
He shook his head.  _ “Why?” _   
  
_ This is why I left a note last time, jackass, _ she thought, though it was without venom. She understood his frustration, she just didn’t know if she could explain it.   
  
“Chrys, baby,” Serene said softly, “We’re just trying to get what’s happening.”   
  
Chrys took a deep breath. “Look, my life has been dictated by Lucifer. And then Sam came along, and my whole world was wrapped up in him. Now that they’re gone, I don’t know who I am. I need…” she took another deep breath. “I need to figure out who I am when I’m by myself. And I can’t do that if I’m here.”   
  
Kevin opened his mouth, but Serene put a hand on his arm to stop him. Her eyes were filled with tears, but she looked understanding. “Okay, Chrys,” she said softly. “What do you need from us?”   
  
Chrys smiled humorlessly. “Nothing, I think that’s the point.”   
  
“Everything will be okay,” Jesse, who had been silent most of the conversation, said suddenly. He gave Chrys a tremulous smile, but the tears in his eyes had her up and around the table, pulling him into her arms, before he could speak again. He buried his face into her shoulder and wrapped his arms tight around her neck. “It’ll be okay, Chrys,” he said softly.   
  
She held him, rocking back and forth gently. “What makes you say that, babe?” She was never sure if it was his natural childhood optimism, or something more powerful at work when he said something like that.   
  
“I just have a feeling.”   
  
***   
  
Two weeks later, on her own for the first time in her life, Chrys started to discover things about herself.   
  
She found out that she was a little bit of a nester when it came right down to it. She had gone to a thrift store for furniture, and came out with several soft blankets, sheet sets, a big bed, and a sofa that she sank into when she sat in it. She also purchased several prints of classical art and hung them around her little apartment, making it feel like someone actually lived there.   
  
She discovered she wasn’t a fan of new movies, but was seriously into old movies and television shows.   
  
She discovered that she  _ did _ have a knack for cooking, a fact that she was certain would amuse Sam to no end, had he been alive to discover it with her.   
  
She discovered how much easier it was to move around in leggings and tunics, and wondered why she’d worn long skirts for so long.   
  
Chrys still didn’t know who she was, but she was making progress, so she left it at that and was content.   
  
***   
  
She was staring at the mirror, braiding her long hair and letting her mind wander.   
  
_ Sam loved my hair. _   
  
It hung down past her waist now, the soft waves almost pulled straight by the sheer weight of it. As she ran her fingers through it, she realized it was probably time for a trim.  _ Starting to look a little ragged. _   
  
But when she thought about it, when she  _ really _ thought about it, she wondered if she wanted to stop at a trim.   
  
_ Maybe it’s time for something new. _   
  
***   
  
She considered chopping it all off with a pair of scissors, but since this wasn’t a goddamn movie montage, she went to a salon instead.   
  
“God, it’s beautiful,” Alyssa, her new hairdresser, breathed out, letting the hair spill through her fingers. She met Chrys’s eyes in the mirror. “You’re sure about this? You’re not gonna try to sue me, or beat me up in the parking lot when it’s all over?”   
  
Chrys laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure. I, uh, I need a change.”   
  
Alyssa clicked her tongue sympathetically. “Bad breakup?”   
  
Something in Chrys stilled and wanted to cower and cry and run, but she tilted her head up and shook her head.  _ I’m done running. _ “No, um… My boyfriend died,” she said softly, “and he loved it. And since he’s gone, I just-… I can’t keep looking at it.” Chrys hated the tears in her eyes.   
  
Alyssa, however, just smiled sadly. “Say no more, dear. Let’s get you a new look.”   
  
***   
  
That night, Chrys went into work with some trepidation.   
  
Her head felt weird. It had been a very, very long time since Chrys had had what could be considered short hair. It had been even longer since any of it had been dyed.   
  
But now she was sporting dark waves cut into layers, the longest of which cut off just above her shoulders. Alyssa had also talked her into dying the bottom half of her hair a deep cerulean blue, a shade that almost matched her eyes. Chrys had fallen in love with it the moment she’d seen it, and had thanked Alyssa profusely.   
  
But it still felt weird. And she was suddenly worried what a certain redheaded barkeep would think.   
  
Chrys had been dancing around the way Bella made her feel for weeks. She wasn’t nervous about the fact that Bella was a woman, Chrys rolled with the punches of her sexuality rather well. She’d never felt that way about a woman before, but if she really thought about it, she would have put herself more in the category of “Sam-sexual” than anything else. So Bella being a woman didn’t bother Chrys at all.   
  
What did bother her was her  _ nerves. _   
  
She walked in, anxiety making her stomach clench and her heart beat hard.   
  
Cara, one of waitresses, squealed. “Oh. My.  _ God. _ Chrys, you look  _ amazing!” _ She ran around the bar and immediately started playing with the ends of Chrys’s hair.   
  
Chrys couldn’t keep the smile off of her face. “Um, thank you. Just… Needed something different.”   
  
“Chrys?”   
  
The soft, lovely voice had Chrys’s eyes widening. She turned slowly to look down at Bella, whose own eyes were pretty wide. “Oh, wow,” Bella said softly. “You look great!”   
  
Relief flooded through her, and Chrys grinned again. “Thank you.”   
  
And for some reason it took Bella saying it to make Chrys start to believe it.   
  
***   
  
It took a couple more weeks, and in the end, it was Bella who did the asking.   
  
“Chrys! We almost finished up?”   
  
Chrys turned and gave Bella a smile. “Yeah, just got done.” Chrys was finishing the inventory report, something she’d volunteered for in what she suspected was an extremely awkward attempt to spend more time with Bella.   
  
_ Fuck it, at least it worked. _   
  
Bella smiled. “You’re a rockstar, Chrys.” A moment of silence passed, and Chrys had turned around to finish the paperwork when Bella spoke again. “Hey, do you want to come to lunch with me?”   
  
Chrys flushed and closed her eyes, nerves making her hands tremble. “Yeah! That sounds great!”  _ Ugh, I sound like a Valley girl. Kill me now. _   
  
***   
  
Bella Pangborn was very, very glad to see Chrys relax a little during lunch. She took them to a cute little diner that she was very fond of, and they ended up having a lovely time.   
  
Bella was entranced by Chrys. Her delicate features, her wide blue eyes, that dark, wavy hair, now with the touch of blue at the back. Chrys was absolutely gorgeous, and Bella was enamored with her already.   
  
But there was a deep well of something indefinable in her eyes, and Bella was determined to figure it out.   
  
“Chrys,” she said softly toward the end of the meal, leaning forward on the booth. “I hope you’re picking up the vibe that I don’t just want to be friends.”   
  
The deep red flush that appeared on Chrys’s cheeks just made Bella want her more. “Um, yeah, yeah, I got that vibe,” she said softly, her melodic voice sending shivers up and down Bella’s spine.   
  
***   
  
Chrys managed to pry her gaze away from her hands to look Bella in the eye again. She also managed to put a smile on her face.  _ Ah, fuck, I’m nervous. _ “I want that, too.” she said softly.   
  
Bella’s eyes lit up, and her pretty smile got wider. “Good,” she said just as softly.   
  
Before the conversation could go further, the door dinged open. Out of habit, Chrys’s eyes flicked to the door, then widened.   
  
The man standing there was tall, with hair that brushed his collar. He looked nothing like Sam, other than his height and the length of his hair, which was actually as red as Bella’s. He was pale instead of tan, thin and wiry instead of muscular.   
  
But it made her heart ache, anyway, and she realized that, no matter how much she liked Bella, she couldn’t do this to her.   
  
“But I don’t think we should,” Chrys said softly.   
  
Bella frowned, her green eyes flashing hurt. “Why?” she asked, turning to stare at the man who had just come in. “What happened? What’s wrong?”   
  
Chrys sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “Bella, I’m in no shape to do anything even resembling dating right now. I want to, I do, but I want to be fair to you.”   
  
Bella frowned harder. “Isn’t that up to me to decide? What is and isn’t fair to me?”   
  
Chrys shook her head. “It is, I know it is, but you don’t understand. I’m… I’m not just in no shape to date, Bella, I’m barely in shape to be around  _ people. _ The guy….” She swallowed hard. “Sam, the one who died, he… That really fucked me up. I’m barely hanging on.”   
  
Bella tilted her head and stared at her for a long time, until Chrys felt compelled to add, “I’m no good, Bella. I’m empty, I have nothing in me to give you.”   
  
Bella smiled softly and reached across the table to take Chrys’s hand. “Well, then let me help fill you up.”   
  
***

That night, Chrys was awash in emotion.

The first was elation.  _ Bella wants me. _ Chrys couldn’t remember the last time someone had wanted her. Tom, of course, but that had been a mess, and had never been an actual option. And then Sam… But Sam was her soulmate. They had been coerced into wanting each other. She wasn’t sure if she should count that.

But  _ Bella. _ Lovely Bella, with her short, curvaceous body, her long red hair, her bright green eyes. Bella, with her easy laugh and her casual touch and her quick smile. Bella, lovely Bella, she wanted  _ Chrys. _ It boggled her.

The other emotions, however, the  _ stronger _ emotions, were much less enjoyable.

There was grief, for Sam, for the love of her life, the other half of her ragged, torn soul, gone forever. Trapped in a cage with Lucifer, who she knew too well would tear her lover apart over and over again.  _ Oh, Sam, my poor Sam. _

There was guilt, also for Sam. It hadn’t even been a year, they were still coming up on the six month mark. Was it normal to want someone this early? Was it  _ okay _ to want someone this early? Was she betraying Sam? 

_ But… Sam’s not coming back. And Dean said to go for it, surely Dean is the benchmark for moving on… _

In spite of that thought, she cried herself to sleep that night.

***

Chrys had the next day off, so she slept in. When her phone rang, she cracked an eye open and flipped her hand around in the sheets for it. When she found it, the name on the screen made her heart flutter a little. After a moment of careful consideration, she answered. “Bella?”

“Are you still asleep?” her laughing voice asked.

Chrys groaned and burrowed back into the covers. “Maybe. What’s up?” She thought for a moment, then, “If Mike called in, I will violently murder him myself.”

Bella’s tinkling laugh made Chrys’s heart flip flop again. “No, no, this isn’t work related.” There was a beat, then, “Look, Chrys, last night was really tense, and I didn’t mean it to be. I was wondering if I could make it up to you?”

Chrys blinked. “You don’t have to make anything up to me, Bella. It was nice. I just had a moment there.”

“I know, and I feel bad. Please?”

Chrys wrestled with herself for a moment. “What do you have in mind?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The next couple of chapters may feel a little rushed, so I'm sorry about that. But they are a little rushed, because really the only action is described. The rest of the time, Chrys is just living her life.  
> **"Since this wasn't a goddamn movie montage," is one of my favorite lines I'very ever written.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	32. They Look Happy

Dating Bella was eye-opening for Chrys, especially as they approached the holidays.

The first thing she did, after their second date, was tell Bella the truth about almost everything. She told her about meeting Sam, about Lucifer, and Dean, and the apocalypse. Bella took it mostly in stride, and while Chrys wasn’t absolutely positive that Bella believed her, she didn’t worry overmuch about it. She had been mostly honest, that was what was important.

She did not, however, tell Bella that Sam was her soulmate, or about the baby. Those things were Chrys’s pain alone, and she wouldn’t share them with anyone.

But being in a relationship with someone you didn’t have to be around twenty-four-seven was a new experience for Chrys. It taught her that she was not  _ always _ confrontational and bitchy, just mostly. And, since Bella was too sweet-natured for her own good, that tended to balance out nicely.

For her part, Bella was sweet, patient, and lovely. She pretended to ignore when Chrys had moments of pure panic, guilt, or sadness, and was just there for her. She was a constant comforting presence, and while Chrys wasn’t sure how to handle that, she did her damnedest.

***

“You’ll just come with me to my family’s Thanksgiving.”

Chrys blinked, then felt herself blush a little. “Will that be okay?”

Bella laughed from the little table in Chrys’s kitchen. “Of course it will be, C. They’ll love you.”

Chrys stirred the noodles, thinking. “And they won’t mind the whole girl-on-girl thing?”

Bella chuckled. “No, they won’t. They’ve never cared.”

Chrys finally smiled. “Okay, that sounds great, then.”

***

For the first time in her life, Chrys had somewhere to go on Thanksgiving. In an absolutely unforeseeable turn of events, she had  _ three _ places to go on Thanksgiving.

In the morning, they went to Bella’s family.

“Bella! And this must be Chrys!” Bella’s mother said excitedly, pulling the front door open and beaming. “Come in, come in! Let’s have a look at you!”

Chrys smiled nervously and stepped in behind Bella, essentially using her girlfriend as a shield against her nerves.  _ Oh, Jesus, I’ve never met parents. What the fuck am I supposed to do? _

“Mom, chill,” Bella said with a chuckle. “You’re going to scare her away.”

Chrys felt herself blush furiously, and wished she was almost literally anywhere else. 

But Cheryl Pangborn just smiled and patted Chrys on the arm on the way back to the kitchen. “Oh, she doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere, and I’m not that scary.”

Bella followed her mother, and Chrys stuck to her like glue. Cheryl bustled around the big, airy kitchen, making pies and starting to prepare the turkey. “So, how did you girls meet?” she asked happily.

Bella opened her mouth, but Cheryl interrupted. “Chrys, I want to hear Chrys’s side of the story.”

Chrys almost groaned out loud, but managed to contain herself. She smiled nervously again. “I, uh, I visited Bella’s bar, and it kind of went south from there.”

Cheryl smiled. “Was it love at first sight? Did you see her across the bar and just have to have her?” Her voice was soft and romantic, her eyes sparkling.

Unable to contain herself, Chrys snorted. “I saw her being harassed from across the bar and took it upon myself to handle it. So, in a sense…”

Bella laughed and wrapped an arm around Chrys’s waist. Chrys’s arm automatically draped across Bella’s shoulders, pulling her close. “She’s my knight in shining armor,” the shorter woman said, beaming up at Chrys.

Chrys couldn’t help leaning down and pressing her lips against Bella’s. Bella sighed and kissed back, and Chrys lost herself in it for a moment.

_ “Aw, _ that’s so  _ sweet!” _ Cheryl crowed.

Bella pulled away, and Chrys was amused to see her blushing furiously. “Hush, Mom,” her girlfriend said softly. Chrys laughed.

***

Next, they saw Kevin, Serene, and Jesse.

Just like the first time she’d come, Jesse ran out the door to greet them. “Chrys!”

This time, Chrys was able to swing him around in the air with actual enthusiasm. “Jesse!” She pressed a kiss onto the top of his head. “How’s it hangin’, babe?”

He grinned and pressed his face into her stomach, his arms firmly around her waist. “I missed you.”

She smiled and ran her hand through his hair. “Missed you, too.” She turned and smiled at Bella. “Jesse, I want you to meet someone. This is Bella, she’s my girlfriend.”

Jesse nodded. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said politely.

Bella smiled and held out her hand. “It’s an honor, Jesse. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

He nodded, then looked up at Chrys and grinned again. “Kev will give us some cookies when Serene isn’t watching if we hurry.”

“I heard that!”

***

Bella was a hit with Kevin, Serene, and Jesse, just like Chrys knew she would be. Her sweet demeanor would make anyone love her. Chrys pushed the thought away and enjoyed the afternoon, trying not to think about loving Bella.

Chrys knew she loved Bella already. She was patient and warm, it was easy to love her. Chrys just didn’t think she’d ever be  _ in _ love with her. Chrys didn’t have it in her to be in love with someone anymore. She’d told Bella she was empty, and she had  _ meant _ it. Sam had taken that part of her with him into the cage.

She forcefully pushed those thoughts away again, unwilling to think about how unfair it was to Bella.

***

Bella watched Chrys when they ended the day at Dean and Lisa’s. Everyone was sleepy and full of food, so they sat in the living room and just talked while Ben and Jesse (who they had borrowed for the evening) bonded and played.

Chrys had been mostly okay all day, but here with Dean, Bella could see her defenses start to fall. She was both more of herself and less, and Bella thought there was really no better way to describe Chrys than that. She was all of herself and none of herself all at once, as nonsensical as that was.

Bella’s family  _ adored _ Chrys. Her unwillingness to take crap from Bella’s brothers, and her automatic offer to help with cleanup, had her family eating out of the palm of Chrys’s hand in just a few hours. Bella knew it would be that way, and nothing made her happier.

Kevin and Serene had been lovely, warm people, who had accepted her presence without a word. They had invited her into their home, made her feel welcome, and Bella already liked them immensely.

But Dean and Lisa were a little different.

Dean more so than Lisa. Lisa was happy and polite and clearly head over heels for Dean, which was a lovely sight to see. Dean, however, had the same shadows in his eyes that Chrys did. Bella watched them hug fiercely, clutching at each other before they released. It made Bella’s heart ache, but she didn’t say a word about it. 

For someone who was dead, Sam was a pretty big presence in the Winchester-Braeden home that night. Far from resenting it, Bella wished there was anything she could do to help. She wished that she could erase the pain there.

She was still reflecting on it as they drove back to Kevin and Serene’s home to drop Jesse off. He was in Chrys’s lap in the passenger seat, deeply asleep while Chrys ran her fingers through his hair.

Bella met Chrys’s eyes briefly. “Good day?” The question had become kind of a code, a way to check on Chrys to make sure her emotional state had been all right.

Chrys smiled sadly. “Good day.”

***

When they made the same rounds a month later for Christmas, they had been dating for a few months, and Bella was able to admit to herself that she was in love with Chrys.  Not out loud, and not to Chrys, just to herself. She didn’t want to spook the poor thing, and Chrys was remarkably easy to spook.

Bella also knew, deep down where a person always knows, that Chrys was  _ not _ in love with  _ her. _

And she was okay with that. She knew Chrys had lied about a few things, or at least omitted a few things, when she told Bella about her life. Bella suspected that those few things were what made it hard for Chrys to sleep at night, and what made her aggressive and bitchy on occasion. Bella didn’t mind the bitchiness, she actually kind of liked it.

So Bella just loved Chrys the best she could, and didn’t mind the parts of her girlfriend that weren’t hers and never would be.

***

On Christmas night, when they got back to her apartment, Chrys lay awake, spooned against Bella’s back as she slept soundly. She stroked Bella’s leg softly, and her mind came ruthlessly back to whether or not she loved Bella.

She knew she did. She knew it in the way she sought Bella’s hand when they were standing next to one another. She knew it because she savored the way Bella’s head tucked neatly beneath her chin when Chrys was standing behind her, so she could wrap her arms around her and rest her head on top of her girlfriend’s. She knew it in the way that waking up next to Bella had become a relief instead of a hardship during those first several months.

But she also knew she’d  _ never _ be in love with Bella. And it broke her heart a little, because she suspected Bella had fallen in love with her.

Chrys drifted to sleep that night with tears in her eyes.

***

Weeks later, Chrys rang Dean and Lisa’s doorbell. Lisa answered with a grin. “You’re here!”

Chrys smiled and hugged her before going inside. Bella followed, chatting easily and cheerfully with Lisa. They were there to celebrate Ben’s birthday, though Lisa claimed they were there to keep her sane more than anything else.

Dean came into the living room from the kitchen and grinned. “My two favorite lesbians,” he said easily, kissing Chrys on the cheek.

She rolled her eyes and smacked him on the arm, even as she kissed his cheek back. “Shut up, asshole,” she muttered.

He chuckled and ducked her second hit to hug Bella. She smiled and let him, winking at Chrys over his shoulder. “You’re incorrigible, Dean,” she said softly.

“Chrys!”

Chrys turned and laughed when Ben ran into her, flinging his arms around her waist. “Hey, birthday boy, how we doing?”

He gave her a toothy smile. “What did you get me?”

“Ben,” Lisa said severely.

“Manners first, dude,” Dean said just as severely.

Chrys smiled at the parent in Dean’s voice, even though it pinged her heart.  _ He would have been a good uncle. _

She ignored the thought to look back down at Ben, who was looking up at her. “Hi, Chrys, how are you?” he asked politely.

She laughed a little and hugged him close. “I’m doing great, especially since your present is out in the car.”

“Yeah!”

***

Dean watched Chrys lean down and whisper something in Bella’s ear. The shorter woman laughed and went up on tiptoe to kiss Chrys.

“They look happy,” Lisa said, leaning into him.

Dean automatically wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “They  _ look _ happy,” he agreed softly, raising his beer to take a long pull.

She looked up at him. “What does that mean?”

He shrugged. Dean had gotten good at reading people’s emotions. He had done it as a child with his father, as a younger adult with Sam, and now with Chrys.

She smiled a lot, and laughed, too. She was extremely affectionate with Bella, always pulling her close to wrap her arms around the redhead and rest her chin on top of her head. She seemed warm and relaxed and happy.

But Dean saw the shadows in Chrys’s eyes. She saw the way her gaze lingered on Lisa and Ben, then pulled away to try to focus on anything else. He saw the nanosecond of hesitation before she touched Bella. And the way that, if something upset her, her eyes sought out his, seeking reassurance, reaffirmation.  _ We’re here. We’re normal. It’s okay. _

“Just a feeling.”

***

As winter died down and temperatures got warmer, Chrys was starting to find it more and more inconvenient to go back and forth from Bella’s apartment to her own. She found that, no matter  _ what _ she wanted to wear, it was always at the other location.

So when Bella suggested they move in together, she didn’t hesitate to say yes.

They decided to move into Bella’s place, since it was bigger. It didn’t take very long until the only things to move were the sofa (Bella’s was bigger, so they would send that back to the thrift store) and Chrys’s bed (which they were keeping, because it was bigger and nicer). Chrys was fine until her apartment was empty.

Then, of course, she wasn’t.

***

She was sitting in the middle of what used to be her bedroom, tears streaming down her face, the rest of her body still. She heard Bella come in, but just stayed staring at the wall, silently weeping.

“All righty, we’re almost-” Bella’s sweet voice cut off. “C? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” She entered Chrys’s field of vision, kneeling in front of her, concern written across her pretty face. “Chrys, what happened?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.

Bella studied her for a long time, then, “Is it because you’re leaving here, or because you’re moving in with me?”

She shrugged again. “I don’t know,” she whispered brokenly.

Bella rolled to her knees and cupped Chrys’s face. Despite herself, Chrys tilted into the touch. “Chrys, sweetheart, he would want you to be happy.” They both knew Sam’s name would make the situation exponentially worse.

Chrys nodded. “I know,” she whispered. “I just…”

Bella leaned forward and pressed her lips to Chrys’s. “Shh, it’s okay, C, I understand.”

That pinged at Chrys’s heart, and she whimpered. “Bells, it’s not-”

Bella interrupted her with a forceful kiss. She slowly, gently guided Chrys back until she was hovering over her. Chrys reached up and looped her arms around Bella’s neck, kissing her back hesitantly. When Bella’s tongue ran along her bottom lip, she gave up and opened for her.

Bella’s soft, warm hand landed at Chrys’s waist, then slid beneath her shirt and moved up to cup her breast gently, thumbing her nipple. Chrys whimpered and arched her back, feeling Bella smile against her mouth. “Let me make it better,” Bella whispered, “Let me take your mind off of it.”

Chrys nodded, and Bella peppered kisses down her jawline and neck, until she was at the collar of Chrys’s shirt. She leaned back and sat up, and Chrys shivered at the hunger in Bella’s green eyes. Chrys sat up, stripped her shirt off, and tossed it into the corner.

When she lay back again, Bella’s mouth was on her in an instant, taking a nipple and rolling it gently in that wet heat, nipping just enough to make Chrys moan. Her hand travelled down to Chrys’s hip, massaging gentle, comforting circles there. “You’re so pretty, Chrys,” Bella murmured against her skin. “So pretty, all the time.”

Chrys whimpered again as Bella kissed her way down her flat stomach, pausing to lave at her navel, then down to her waist. She ran her tongue along the waistband of the leggings blocking her way, then looked up to meet Chrys’s gaze. The heat there made Chrys shudder again.

Bella smiled and slipped her fingers under the leggings, then slowly, gently, lovingly, pulled them off. Chrys couldn’t stop the whimpers in the back of her throat as she tugged them off completely. Bella took Chrys’s ankles in her hands and tenderly spread her legs, settling between them with a loving smile. “You’re so responsive, C,” she husked, leaning down to press kisses in a line from her knee up to her inner thigh. “It’s amazing, it’s so fucking hot.”

She sank her tongue into Chrys without warning, making her cry out and shudder at Bella’s heat on her. She reached down to thread her fingers through Bella’s red hair and resisted the urge to buck into her mouth. “Fuck!”

Bella took Chrys’s clit into her mouth, running her tongue against the sensitive nub, making heat coil tightly in her at an incredibly fast rate. “Oh, God, Bella!” She cried out as Bella sank one, then two fingers into her, curling to hit her g-spot.

Bella hummed into her, the vibration making her toes curl. “Hmm, say my name, C, let’s hear it, lover.” Then she sucked hard, making Chrys see stars.

_ “Bella!” _ she screamed her name over and over as she came, and Bella didn’t let up, eating her through her first orgasm and sending her hurtling to her second one. Chrys whimpered and tried to scoot away, but Bella’s soft, gentle, authoritative hand on her leg had her stopping and taking whatever her woman gave her.

Bella smiled into her. “Good, good, just stay still, sweetheart,” she murmured, then went back to work.

Chrys was moaning, her long legs trembling, her hips bucking helplessly up into Bella’s mouth. This was so out of the ordinary for them. Chrys was more dominant, Bella softer and sweeter and naturally submissive. This was… A switch. It was an  _ incredible _ turn on.

“Oh, fuck, Bella, please, baby, I can’t-  _ Fuck!” _ She screamed as she came again, writhing beneath her redheaded goddess.

Bella licked her gently through the aftershocks, then sat up and wiped her mouth with a grin. “Feel better?”

Chrys, lying in a stupor, grunted.

Bella laughed. “Good. Then get dressed and let’s get out of here.”

Chrys frowned and sat up on her elbows. “But, Bells, what about you?”

The gentle smile on Bella’s face made tears prick at Chrys’s eyes again. “Come on, C, let’s go home.”

As she got dressed again, Chrys wondered how she’d gotten so lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter was so fucking hard to write. I have no idea why, but I fought with this one. So if you think it's subpar, I agree.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	33. I'm, Uh, Actually Looking for Someone

Chrys woke up much earlier than Bella on the redhead’s birthday, ready to enact several plans.  
  
Bella was… Perfect. Chrys wanted her birthday to be beautiful, so she’d made sure the bar was ready, called Bella’s mom to make sure she didn’t have any plans, and carefully crafted a day around her girlfriend.   
  
Chrys just wanted to give something back to Bella. Since they’d moved in together, poor Bella had really seen what a mess Chrys was, even a little over a year after Sam’s death. But instead of getting impatient or being judgmental, Bella just held her through the pain, tears, or panic attacks that would alternately overwhelm Chrys.   
  
It was incredibly healing. And as a result, a few months after she’d moved in with Bella, Chrys felt like a new woman. She rarely had panic attacks anymore, and although she was still bitchy, it wasn’t because she was depressed or manic. She was just naturally mean.   
  
Bella was a catalyst for healing. Chrys wouldn’t say that Bella had healed her personally, that was a bit much to lay on the poor woman. But she made Chrys want to be a better woman.   
  
Ergo, the birthday surprises.   
  
***   
  
Bella was on cloud nine that afternoon, so in love with Chrys she couldn’t stand it.   
  
She’d been given an elaborate breakfast in bed, followed by a gasping, wet, insanely hot round of sex which left her breathless and wanting.   
  
Then Chrys had taken her to a movie in the park. It was still very early spring, so Chrys had brought a huge blanket and wrapped them both up in it. The movie playing was one of Bella’s favorites, but she’d barely paid attention to it. As soon as they were hidden from sight, Chrys had begun fingering her slowly, the drag of her fingers moving in and out of her driving Bella crazy. She’d come twice before begging for respite. Chrys had laughed softly and relented, then they had cuddled for the rest of the movie.   
  
And now they were at the bar. Chrys insisted she “just needed to grab something,” but Bella hadn’t been born the night before, so she just rolled her eyes and followed her girlfriend into the bar.   
  
When they got in, the room was dark, and despite the fact that she _knew_ what was about to happen, Bella felt a little thrill of fear work it’s way up her spine.   
  
But not Chrys. Her fearless woman strode in confidently, and the way her hips moved made Bella’s mind wander in the few seconds it took for Chrys to flip the light switch.   
  
“Surprise!”   
  
Bella laughed as balloons were released, confetti went flying, and people jumped out from every available hiding spot in the bar. “Aw, you guys!” She said happily. “This is so sweet.” She walked to Chrys and wrapped her arms around her waist, tilting her head back to look up into those beautiful blue eyes. “Thank you.”   
  
Chrys cupped her face in one slender hand and kissed her gently. “Happy birthday, Bells.”   
  
***   
  
Bella was sitting on the bar, watching Chrys mix drinks and watching the people around her.   
  
Kevin and Serene, who had become as close as family for Bella, were there. So were her mother and siblings. Lisa and Ben were there, too, but Dean was not.   
  
Lisa had told her that Dean had started travelling for work frequently. She said she was fine with it, but Bella could tell it was taking a toll on her from the circles beneath her eyes and the weight she’d dropped. _Poor Lis,_ she thought kindly.   
  
“So, our girl did pretty well, didn’t she?”   
  
Bella turned to grin at Kevin, who was leaning against the bar next to her and looking at Chrys, who was still serving drinks at the other end.   
  
“She did great,” Bella said softly.   
  
Kevin nodded. “Yeah, she’s something special.”   
  
Bella nodded, smiling. “She’s amazing, she’s everything.”   
  
Kevin smiled back. “Got it bad, huh, kid?”   
  
Bella sobered a bit. “Oh, yes. I mean it, she’s _everything._ I never want to be apart from her, and I always want to be touching her.” Bella smiled again. “Oh, I’m so in love with her I can barely breathe. Even if she doesn’t love me.”   
  
Kevin frowned. “What?”   
  
Irritated with herself for slipping, Bella rushed to Chrys’s defense. “No, no, I don’t mean it in a bad way. She loves me, she wants to take care of me and be with me. She’s just not… _In_ love with me. You know?”   
  
Kevin looked at her for a long time. Finally, he took a swig of the beer in his hand and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I know. And for the record, I think you’re right, and also for the record, I’m sorry.”   
  
_“I’m_ not,” she said softly, vehemently. “I love every little piece of her that I can get. Even if _he_ still has most of them.”   
  
Bella had tried to keep her curiosity about Sam to herself. _Obviously_ talking to Chrys wasn’t an option, but here was a man who had met Bella’s mysterious romantic opponent, and maybe he could talk to her about him.   
  
“Kevin, did you know Chrys when she was with Sam?”   
  
Kevin nodded. “Yup.”   
  
“Was she… Was she happier? With him?”   
  
Kevin cocked an eyebrow. “You know I can’t tell you stuff like that, B.”   
  
She sighed. “I know.” There was a beat of silence, then, “Can you tell me about him?”   
  
Kevin thought for a moment, then smiled. “Yeah, I think I can do that.” He settled himself on the barstool. “Sam was a quiet kind of guy. Only met him once, early on in he and Chrys’s relationship. Smart, very kind, and he was crazy about Chrys. He didn’t know it yet, but he was head over heels for her already. The rest of us were just waiting for it to sink in.”   
  
Bella smiled. “He really loved her, huh?”   
  
Kevin nodded. “He really, really did.”   
  
And, rather than be bitter or jealous or upset,  Bella was just glad Chrys had had someone to love her.

***

On the way home, Chrys held Bella’s hand, running her thumb across the delicate skin. “Good day?”

Bella nodded sleepily. “Good day.”

***

Months passed like that, peaceful and only eventful when a birthday or event came up. After living as a hunter, where every situation was life or death, the routine was nice.

Living with Bella was amazing. Chrys couldn’t put into words how much she loved coming home to her, or how much she looked forward to sleeping next to her. Chrys thought frequently that if she could fall in love with someone again, she would have fallen in love with Bella the first time she’d laid eyes on her.

But something was still missing. Chrys still sometimes woke up with tears in her eyes and an aching chest, missing Sam so much she felt like her heart would stop. She still turned to tell him something in a moment of forgetting, and it would all come flooding back to her when she saw that he wasn’t there.

For the most part, however, life was good, and normal, and lovely.

Until, of course, her life was turned upside down.

_Again._

***

Sam woke up alone in the panic room. Frowning, he sat up and looked around. _What the hell?_   
  
The last thing he remembered was grabbing Michael, infuriated and heartbroken that he’d killed Chrys, and flinging both he and the archangels into the cage. Irritation swept through him, and he wondered idly what the hell Dean had had to give up to get him out.   
  
He stood and stretched. He felt fine… He felt _great,_ actually… He wanted to know what had happened, and his heart ached at the thought of Lucifer killing Bobby and Cass, and Michael killing Chrys, but…   
  
He wandered out of the panic room, surprised to find the door unlocked, and walked into the kitchen. Dean was facing away from him. “Okay, I’m not changing the channel.”   
  
“Dean,” Sam said softly, still vaguely wondering what the hell was going on.   
  
Dean whirled around and stared. “Sam.”   
  
Sam squeezed him back when Dean crushed him into a hug, then turned and hugged Bobby. He stopped and stepped back. “Wait. I saw you… I… I _felt_ Lucifer snap your neck.”

Bobby shrugged. “Well, Cass kind of-”

Shocked, Sam interrupted. “Cass is alive?” He turned to Dean. “What about Chrys?”

Dean evaded with no subtlety whatsoever. “How are you feeling?”

“Dean, where the fuck is Chrys?”

***

Sam somehow managed to sneak away while Bobby was on the phone and Dean was in the bathroom. He took the Impala and _drove._

_Chrys is alive._

He was still shaking. _Chrys is alive._ His woman, his soulmate, she was alive, somewhere in Illinois, waiting for him to get to her. He could barely focus on the road.

His phone rang for the umpteenth time, and he finally answered it. “Dean, I’m going to Chrys. I know you said she’s not hurt, but-”

“Shut the fuck up, Sam,” Dean snapped. “You can’t just go barging in to find Chrys. She’s not… It’s not the same, Sammy.”

“What do you mean, ‘not the same?’” Sam demanded. “She’s still my soulmate, and I have to see her.”

“Sam, come on, please, don’t-”

Sam ended the call and hit the accelerator.

***

As soon as Dean realized Sam was gone, he jumped into one of Bobby’s cars and beat feet after him.

He tried calling Chrys several times, to warn her, to tell her to run, to tell her _something,_ but his brother’s woman was notoriously terrible at keeping her phone on her, so he just left her several voicemails and hit the accelerator harder.

_She’s going to kill him. And me._

***

Chrys was helping Bella lock up. They’d closed the bar early because of some minor holiday that Chrys didn’t care enough about to learn the name of. So she was _supposed_ to be helping Bella lock up.

Instead, she was getting in the way.

Chrys was on her knees behind Bella, pressing kisses into the small of her pale back. One hand held her shirt up, the other was sliding up her girlfriend’s curvaceous, denim clad leg.

“Chrys!” Bella was laughing. “You’re ridiculous. We’ll be done in _minutes.”_ Despite her words, her voice was a little breathy.

Chrys grinned and stood. She took Bella’s hips into her hands and turned her around to face her. Then she pinned Bella to the bar with her hips, took her pretty face in hand, and bent down to kiss her senseless.

Bella moaned and went up on tiptoe to kiss her back enthusiastically. Chrys smiled against her lips, then moaned in displeasure as Bella pulled away.

Her green eyes were sparkling. “Chrys,” she said with a smile, “If you go get me another roll of receipt tape, we can go home and you can ravish me that much sooner.”

Chrys groaned and bent down to kiss her again, hard, then took a step back. “All right, all right, I’ll go get the stupid tape.”

Bella smiled. “Good, go, shoo. I want to go home.”

Chrys winked. “Me, too, Bells.”

She turned and walked back to the storeroom, feeling light on her feet and pretty damn close to happy. Maybe everything wasn’t perfect, but it was good. It was _very_ good.

She was digging around in the boxes when she heard the bell hung above the door _ding!_ She frowned, but kept up at her task. _We’re closed, jackass._

“Hi!” She heard Bella’s sweet voice. “I’m sorry, sir, we’re closed.”

“I’m, uh, actually looking for somebody.”

_That voice._

“Who?”

_Oh, God, no._

“Her name is Chrys? Chrysanthemum Summers?”

_What?_

“Chrys!” Bella called. “Someone’s here for you!”

Chrys stood slowly, feeling her heartbeat behind her eyes, and turned to walk out. She did slowly, so slowly, completely unbelieving. _It’s just a mistake, I’m hearing things, he’s dead. Obviously._

But when she rounded the corner of the bar, _there he was._ Tall, wide, slim hips, hands in his coat pockets, hair tucked behind his ears, hazel eyes devouring her.

“Hey, Chrys,” he said softly.

_“Sam.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	34. Of Course She's Going

The part of Chrys’s mind that made her a good hunter hadn’t been used for a long time. The normal, boring life she’d been living didn’t require any of that knowledge, or any of those instincts.   
  
But it was kicked into high gear now.   
  
Slowly, not taking her eyes off of the thing that looked like her dead soulmate, she moved to behind the bar.   
  
“Chrys?” Bella asked, fear tinging her tone. “What’s wrong?”   
  
“Get behind me, Bells,” Chrys said softly as she reached her destination.   
  
“Why…  _ Chrys!” _ Bella hissed in shock as Chrys pulled the sawed off that she kept under the register out and pointed it at “Sam.”   
  
“Behind me, Bella,” Chrys snapped. She relaxed a fraction when the redhead obeyed. Then she focused on the thing in front of her.   
  
“What are you?”   
  
“Chrys, it’s me. I’m back.” His voice, the voice that had whispered sweet nothings into her ear. Hearing it come from the thing in front of her rocked Chrys, but she tried to stay focused.   
  
“No, you’re not,” she said softly. “Sam’s in hell. Sam couldn’t have possibly gotten  _ out _ of hell. So what the fuck are you?”   
  
“Sam?” Bella whispered behind her. “Sam  _ Winchester?” _   
  
“Chrys,” the thing insisted, “I’m human. I’m me. I’ll do the tests if you want, I’ll prove it.”   
  
Before Chrys could answer, the door banged open. Keeping the gun pointed at “Sam,” she looked over to see Dean coming in, green eyes wide.   
  
His stance, the way he stood next to Sam and put his hands up, and the nervous way he was eyeing the gun, told her everything she needed to know.   
  
Hurt and shock bloomed in her chest. “Dean?” she whispered.   
  
“C, it’s okay. It’s him, I checked. We got him back.”   
  
She slowly made her way around the bar, gun still held up, grappling with her emotions. “How?” she asked brokenly.   
  
“Long story,” Dean said a beat too quickly. His eyes met hers, begging, and she understood.   
  
_ We’re lying to Sam. Again. _   
  
***   
  
Bella Pangborn was not a stupid woman. She knew what was about to happen.   
  
From the moment Chrys had come up front, she’d been more animated than she had been since the first night Bella had met her. Something about her was more…  _ Alive, _ crackling with energy. Bella didn’t understand how Sam was back. She did, however, understand that Chrys was going to go with him when he left.   
  
Since Sam and Chrys had laid eyes on one another, it had been like Bella wasn’t even there. There were only two people in her bar now, and she wasn’t one of them. The intensity between Sam and Chrys far outweighed anything Bella had ever seen, much less experienced.   
  
Bella Pangborn was not a stupid woman. But she did have her pride. So she held in her tears and watched the scene before her unfold, already mentally bracing for heartbreak.   
  
***   
  
Sam couldn’t believe how good Chrys looked. She was  _ gorgeous, _ like she’d always been. She was like some sort of avenging goddess, holding him at gunpoint with fury and betrayal burning in her blue eyes.   
  
“Okay, fine,” she spat. “We’ll put a fucking pin in how the  _ fuck _ this is happening. I  _ guess. _ What are you doing here?”   
  
That brought him up short. “What… What do you mean? I came for you.”   
  
She laughed, and the bitter, sharp sound made him want to go to her, wrap his arms around her and try to take her pain away. But he knew very well that Chrys didn’t point guns at people she wasn’t willing to shoot, so he stayed where he was.   
  
“Sam, I haven’t just been waiting for you to come back. I have a life now, I’m not just going to  _ leave _ it to follow you around the country again.”   
  
Before Sam could reply, a sweet, soft voice interrupted. “C,” the little redhead said, lacing a hand on Chrys’s arm. “I think everyone needs to chill. Let’s get some drinks, and you put the gun down, okay?”   
  
Chrys looked down at the other woman, but the barrel of the gun didn’t move. “But what if I want to shoot him?”   
  
Bella chuckled. “Chrys, baby, you  _ always _ want to shoot someone.”   
  
The familiar way Bella and Chrys spoke chilled Sam’s heart.   
  
_ How long was I gone? _   
  
***   
  
Dean would be forever grateful for Bella’s cool head. And for her suggestion of drinking.   
  
He sat at one of the barstools next to the petite woman, watching Sam and Chrys talk in a booth across the room. He was nursing a whiskey, Bella doing the same. That surprised him, she was usually more of a beer drinker.   
  
“So, that’s the famous Sam,” she said softly. He looked for bitterness in her words, but found only sadness.   
  
“That’s him,” he agreed.   
  
“And he wants Chrys to go with him.”   
  
Dean winced as he realized what Sam’s resurrection would mean for Bella. “Uh… Yeah.”   
  
Bella knocked back her tumbler of whiskey and nodded. “All right then.”   
  
Dean frowned. “Bella, I’m sure she won’t-“   
  
“Yes, she will,” Bella interrupted gently, and without anger. “Of  _ course _ she’s going to go. It’s Sam.” After a beat of silence, “She still says his name at night, you know.”   
  
Dean stared at her. “What?”   
  
Bella nodded, her green eyes misty. “Yeah, I don’t think she knows she still does it. But she does, like clockwork, at least once a night in her sleep. She says, ‘Sam.’” She smiled at him sadly. “I’ve only ever loved one person that much, to still be dreaming about them a year and a half later. And if she comes to me then and asks me to go with her, no matter how dangerous or stupid or reckless it is, no matter how much peace I’ve built without her, I’ll go with her in a second. In an absolute second.” She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. “So, yeah. She’s going with him. and I’m all right with that.”   
  
“No, you’re not,” he said gently.   
  
She chuckled darkly. “No, I’m not. But I’m going to be.”   
  
***   
  
“I don’t understand,” Chrys said softly. “I mean… I don’t understand.”   
  
Sam exhaled sharply and swirled the amber liquid in his cup. “Yeah, it’s kind of a lot to take in.”   
  
She laughed harshly again. “Sam, it’s not ‘a lot to take in.’ It’s fucking insane.”   
  
They were quiet for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, then, “You cut your hair.”   
  
“Well, Sammy, you crawled out of hell, so I win on the whole, ‘not telling each other stuff’ front.”   
  
He held his hands up in surrender, but humor was twinkling in his eyes. “All right, fair point.”

She took a deep breath, unsure of what to say to him.  _ What do you say to someone, who you never got over, who should be dead? _

She sighed. “Look, Sam. You’ve been gone, and I… I have Bella now. I can’t just leave here.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Yeah, I, uh, I got that.”

Chrys winced. “Look, I’m-”

“Sam?” They both turned to see Bella smiling sadly at them. “May I speak with Chrys for a moment?”

“Oh, um. Sure.” He stood and looked at Chrys briefly, and it made her ache. It was a look that he would have given her… Before.

Bella slid into the booth across from Chrys and held out her hands. Automatically, Chrys leaned forward and took them in hers. “What a fucked up day,” she said softly.

Bella smiled. “You’re telling me.” She took a deep breath, and Chrys absent-mindedly appreciated Bella’s chest for a second.  _ She’s so lovely. _

“C, you have to go.”

Chrys blinked, then frowned. “What? Bells, I’m not just gonna up and leave you.”

Bella nodded. “Yes, you are.”

Chrys shook her head. “Bella, come on. I’m dating  _ you, _ just because he appeared out of nowhere-”

“Stop, Chrys,” Bella interrupted. “Just stop. Of course you’re going.”

“But-”

“Chrys, baby, you were never mine,” Bella said sadly, her eyes filling with tears. “You were always his.”

Chrys felt her own eyes filling, and she gripped Bella’s hands hard. “Bella, I… I don’t want to leave you.”

“Well, then, I’m kicking you out,” she said firmly, giving Chrys’s hands a squeeze. “Go. You need him, and he needs you.”

Chrys just stared at her miserably. Bella smiled. “Chrys, this is good news. You love Sam, and he’s back. Be happy, baby.”

Chrys shook her head. “I can’t.”

Bella smiled again. “You will.” She sniffed and tugged her hands away from Chrys and stood. “Come on, stand up with me.” Chrys obeyed, helpless against the beautiful woman in front of her. Bella reached up and ran her hands through Chrys’s hair, fixing it. “You’re gonna go to the apartment and get what you need to go. Leave a mailing address, so I can get the rest of it to you, and a list of our stuff you really want. Keep your key, in case you need it.”

Chrys shook her head. “Bells-”

Bella put a finger to her lips. “No arguing with me, Summers.” Bella smiled up at her again as a tear fell down her cheek. “Kiss me goodbye, C.”

Chrys leaned down slowly and took Bella’s face in her hands. She tried to convey everything she felt into the kiss she pressed to Bella’s lips. She kissed her for a long time, exploring her, memorizing her.

She finally pulled away and pressed her forehead to Bella’s. “Good day?” Bella whispered.

Chrys whimpered, and another tear fell down her cheek. “No.”

Then Bella started crying in earnest.

***

Sam watched Chrys in the rearview, aching for her. He wanted to comfort her, to hold her and wipe the pain from her face. But she might rip his spine out his nostril, so he stayed in the front.

She was wearing headphones and ignoring them, so he turned to Dean. “So, her and Bella…”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, Bells is good people. This fucking sucks.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably. “Were they… Did she…”

“Bella is head over heels for Chrys,” Dean said softly. “Chrys loves Bella, but she never really got over you.”

Sam sighed, but there was satisfaction rising in his chest. His woman couldn’t get over him.  _ Good. _

“Listen, Sam,” Dean said a beat later. “You’re gonna have to give Chrys some time. She went through some rough stuff while you were gone.”

“Did she-”

“I’m not talking about drugs, God dammit,” Dean snapped. “As far as I know, she never used. But it was… It was bad, Sammy. She was real low for a real long time.”

Sam frowned. “I get it, Dean, it’ll take-”

“No, you don’t, Sam.” Dean said simply. “You can’t.”

***

Sam watched as Chrys took her bag, a different one than she’d had before, and grabbed one of the room keys from Dean before walking to her room and shutting it gently behind her. He heard the deadbolt  _ click, _ and frowned.

“Give her time, Sammy,” Dean said evenly. “I’m serious. Just… Give her a minute.”

***

When Bella got home, she found a lot of Chrys’s clothes gone, a few personal items missing, and the apartment key that had been Chrys’s was on the kitchen counter.

She cried herself to sleep with it in her hand.

***

It was almost three in the morning, and Sam couldn’t sleep. So he slowly got out of bed, so as not to disturb Dean. He dressed quickly, then walked out of the room and over to the one next door.

He debated with himself for a while on whether or not to knock. Dean had told him that Chrys would need time, and he knew that, and he wanted to respect that.

But he  _ needed _ her. He needed her next to him, in his arms, her head resting on his chest. He couldn’t sleep without her.

Before he could decide, the deadbolt  _ clicked _ again, and the door opened to reveal Chrys, standing a long t-shirt and bare feet. Her hair was a tangled mess, telling him that she had been tossing and turning. Her eyes were red, telling him that she had been crying.

“What do you want, Sam?” she asked softly.

He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly cursing himself for being stupid enough to come over here. “I, uh, couldn’t sleep.”

“Tough,” she snapped, and the door shut in his face.

He stayed where he was for a few moments, surprised.  _ Dammit. _ She had gone back to being prickly and bitchy. He was all right with the prickly and the bitchy, he loved it, but she hadn’t been that way to  _ him _ for a long time.

The door opening again surprised him even more. “Get the fuck in here,” she snapped. “It’s cold outside.”

“Chrys, if you don’t want me-”

“Shut up, Sam, and lock the door behind you.”

He did so and followed her into the room. She sat on the bed and buried her face in her hands. “This is so fucked.”

He huffed out a little laugh. “Yeah, yeah, it is.” She didn’t move or say anything else, so he chanced it. “Are you doing okay?”

She looked up at him incredulously. “What do you think, Sam? How could I possibly be okay?”

She stood and walked away from him, running her hands through her hair, making it crazier. He tried for something else. “I, uh, I like the blue.”

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Sam,” she said softly, but there was no venom in the words this time. “I’m just going to dye over it now, I guess. If I ever have the chance.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Because I’m not going to have time to go to a salon every six weeks if we’re hunting.” He winced at her words, but she was already continuing. “I had a life,” she said softly. “It was a good one. I had the bar, I visited Kev and Serene, Dean and Lisa. I had…” She swallowed hard. “I had Bells. And it was so…  _ Easy _ to leave behind.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She turned to look at him. “Sam, all I had to do was pack a few clothes and some books and stuff. I mean, it took me twenty minutes, you were there. How…” Her chest heaved. “How can I be able to just leave a good life in twenty minutes? What did it even mean, if I just need twenty minutes to go?”

She cried for a few moments, then wiped her eyes hard and groaned. “I hate this,” she whispered.

Sam watched her, the urge to go to her and comfort her almost overwhelming. But he was a little worried she would break his arm, or just break apart altogether, so he somehow managed to stay where he was. “Chrys, I-”

“You don’t… You can’t understand, Sam,” she said softly, looking down at her feet, her arms wrapped around her middle.

“Understand what, b… Chrys?”  _ Pet names probably aren’t a good idea right now. _

Her scoff told him that he’d heard it, anyway. “I can’t explain it.”

“Can you try?”  _ This is going to kill me again. _

She laughed again, a broken sound that made his chest ache. “I  _ can’t, _ Sam. I mean, how can I explain what this is like for me?” She looked up at the ceiling and ran her hands through her hair. “I… I think Bella hung the  _ moon, _ Sam. I really do, she’s amazing. But you’re still what my stupid, stupid sun rises and sets on.”

His eyebrows shot up, and she met his eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Sam, I want to be in love with Bella so bad it hurts. I want to, I’ve been trying, and the fact that I can’t is  _ killing _ her. I want to be in love with her, but I can’t stop being so goddamn  _ relieved _ that you’re back long enough to care.”

The pain in her voice had him crossing the room in two long strides and pulling her into his arms. She went willingly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her face into the skin just below his jaw as she cried. He put a hand on the back of her head and held her, closing his eyes in relief.

_ Finally. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I've been planning the line, "Well, Sammy, you crawled out of hell, so I win on the whole, 'not telling each other stuff' front" almost since the day I started this fanfic.  
> **To the person who suggested that, "enough is enough," in reference to how many chapters it took me to bring Sam back: It's fanfiction. If you don't like how it's written, don't read it.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	35. Cashing That Chip

Chrys slept better next to Sam than she had in a year and a half.

***

Sam woke up on his back, alone in bed.

He frowned and rubbed a hand down his face.  _ Are we really going back to square one? _ He squashed his irritation immediately. If Chrys needed him to go back to square one, he would. He couldn’t imagine what him dying had put her through, because he couldn’t imagine what he would do if she died.

When he took stock of his surroundings, he realized that the shower was running.  _ There she is. _

He made a game of counting how many ways she would kick his ass if he tried to get in with her while he waited for her to come out.

When she did, his heart damn near stopped.

She was wrapped in a thick towel (definitely not one from the motel), but it was short. It stopped just at her upper thigh, showing off her long, lovely legs. She had gained a little bit of weight, he realized, just enough to make her healthier. She was towelling her hair dry with one of the motel towels.

She met his eyes and gave him a tired smile. “Morning.”

He smiled. “Morning.”

She sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. “Do you think Dean would let us sleep for a day?”

Sam shrugged when she looked back at him. “I just came back from the dead, I think Dean would let us do damn near anything we wanted to do.”

She nodded and stood to get her cell phone. “Good. I’m cashing that chip in for you, Sammy.”

She typed on her phone, and without really considering it, he reached up and fingered the ends of her damp hair.

She jumped and whipped around to look at him. He jerked back and held his hands up to show her he meant no harm.

“Sorry, sorry, wasn’t thinking.”

***

“Sorry, sorry, wasn’t thinking.”

Chrys tamped down the warm feeling his fingers in her hair had brought up and tried to look firm. “Sam, just because you’re back doesn’t mean I’m going to jump right into bed with you.”

He nodded, hazel eyes wide. “I know.”

“Okay then,” she said with a confidence that she did not feel. “Put a shirt on, Sammy, and let’s go to breakfast.”

***

They went with Dean to a cheesy diner a few blocks away. When they got a booth, Sam had to hide his hurt and surprise when Chrys slid in next to Dean. He was further surprised when Dean not only didn’t bat an eye, but laid his arm across the back of the bench, almost around her.

Chrys and his brother sat close, and Sam listened to their easy chatter with envy burning in his heart. He wanted to be there again, with her, talking and touching easily. She was two feet away from him and he missed her like crazy.

After they ordered, Chrys stood. “I’m gonna step outside, I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll go with you,” Sam blurted, desperate to be with her.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Eager to watch me suck cancer?” She shrugged. “Whatever.”

He followed her out, berating himself for being stupid while simultaneously admiring her legs in the dark fabric that covered them. He missed her skirts, but there was something to be said for leggings.

When they got outside, she leaned against the wall, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. He watched her lean her back against the wall elegantly, and tried to wrestle the hunger rising in his chest.

“You started smoking again.”

Even though it wasn’t a question, she nodded. “Yeah, there didn’t seem to be a good reason to quit anymore. Not without… You know.”

He leaned against the wall next to her, searching for the right words to the question he wanted to ask.

“Lucifer killed her,” Chrys said softly on an exhale. “He got possessive and mean and he killed her.”

A bolt of pain hit Sam in the chest, even though he’d known what she was going to say. There  _ obviously _ wasn’t a baby running around. “Oh.”

She nodded, and though she showed no other signs, the tightness around her eyes told him she was upset. “Yeah, it was really, really awful.”

He wanted to take her into his arms again, start to erase all of the pain she’d been through. But he knew that kind of comfort wouldn’t be welcomed.

So instead, he reached over and took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. He didn’t turn to look at her, just kept his eyes forward and relished the feeling of her warm skin.

She stiffened for a moment, then relaxed and just held his hand. She held it until they got back to the table. And even though she still sat next to Dean, Sam felt better.

***

After breakfast, they all wanted to go back to sleep, so they made their way back to the motel. When they got there, Chrys went to her room and quickly shut the door behind her.

She leaned against it and rubbed her face hard.  _ No sleeping with the hunter, Summers. Keep it together, girl. _

Jumping into bed with Sam seemed crass and wrong and hasty. He’d just gotten back from a tour in hell. She’d just left her girlfriend for him. It was unseemly.

And, God help her, she wanted him so bad she could barely think.

_ Cold shower, _ she thought to herself firmly.

***

Sam sat on his bed, hands clasped loosely between his knees, fighting the urge to go to Chrys.

_ She just got out of a relationship. She’s heartbroken, not horny. She’ll tear your arm off and beat you to death with it if you go over there. _

Nothing was working.

Dean groaned. “Dude, just go over there and talk to her. Quit moping around here.”

Sam frowned. “Shut up, Dean. She pretty obviously doesn’t want me in there.”

“Yeah, but if she beats your ass when you try, maybe you’ll be less of a bitch about it.”

Sam glared at his brother, but the gentle prompting was really all he needed. He walked to the door and went out without another word, Dean’s laughter ringing in his ears.

He stood in front of Chrys’s door again, but only fought with himself for a moment before he knocked.

***

Dean hoped they would just start fucking again and get it over with.

As bitter as the thought was, Dean could look past his own misery to be happy for Sam and Chrys. He was glad they were reunited, and although his heart ached for Bella, he was also glad Chrys had come with them.

Now, all those two morons had to do was make up, and he would be able to grieve for his lost life in peace.

***

The knock at the door made Chrys jump. She blinked, then frowned.  _ God dammit, Sam. _

She opened the door, and the heat in his eyes bowled her over a little. Which irritated her. “What do you want, Sam?”

He cocked an eyebrow, which may have actually killed a lesser woman. “You know what I want, Chrys.”

She shivered, then shook her head. “Sam, we talked about this-”

“No,” he interrupted firmly, his voice pitched low. And even though she was no longer compelled to obey him, it made something instinctive in her crave his dominance.

“No,  _ we _ didn’t talk about this,” he said softly, taking a step inside.  _ “You _ talked about this.”

She took in a deep breath. “Okay. What do you want to say?”

He took another step forward, forcing her to take a step back to avoid being touched by him as he shut the door gently behind him. His hot gaze raked up and down her body, taking in the tunic she was wearing, taking in her lack of leggings, her hair tangled around her face.

“I want you, Chrys,” he said darkly. “Dean won’t tell me how long I’ve been gone, but I can  _ feel _ your absence. I can  _ feel _ how long it’s been since I’ve touched you.”

She forced herself not to make a sound as she took another step back. “Sam, I…”

“You what, Chrys?” he asked softly, his voice low and dangerous and tremble-inducing. “Tell me, beautiful.”

“I…” She sighed and ran her hands through her hair, trying to keep hold of herself. “Look,  _ obviously _ I want you, but, it feels… Wrong,” she finished lamely.

“Wrong?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow and crowding toward her again. “Or is it that it’s wrong that we haven’t done this yet?” She took in a shuddery breath, and his eyes zeroed in on her mouth. “Is it that you want me to fuck you so bad you can barely see straight?”

She finally let out a whimper, and met his eyes as she took the last step back she could and bumped against the wall. “Sam…”

He stepped forward, his chest millimeters away from touching her, his breath mingling with hers as she looked up at him and finally,  _ finally _ gave in to Sam.

His eyes softened, and he brought a hand up to almost touch her face. He didn’t, but let it hover there. “Chrys, if you don’t want this, tell me now, and I’ll go. Take a cold shower, whatever you need from me. Tell me if you don’t want this.”

But Chrys had run out of words. She’d been talking to herself, and to him, talking about how she shouldn’t want this,  _ couldn’t _ want this. She was desperate and heartbroken, she couldn’t possibly want him so soon. She was out of words.

So she reached up, wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, and brought his mouth crashing down on hers.

He growled and kissed her hard, pushing her against the wall. His hands were suddenly everywhere, her waist and her breasts and her face, until one settled with his fingers buried in her hair, and the other gripped her hip hard.

She ran her hands down his chest until she was at the hem of his t-shirt, tugging hard until he broke away and stripped it off. As soon as he was done, he was kissing her again, and she was able to  _ touch _ him again.

That beautiful, ridiculous chest, that had somehow become  _ more _ defined since she’d been with him last. She traced the muscles there, running her nails across the anti-possession tattoo he sported. He shuddered, and she smiled against his lips.

He fisted his hand in her tunic and pulled it up, making her gasp as cool air hit her bare skin. It was his turn to smile against her lips. “Still no underwear, beautiful?”

She shook her head as much as she could. “Never,” she muttered against him.

His hand left her hair and he was suddenly lifting her. She whimpered and wrapped her legs around his trim waist, pressing kisses along his jaw and his neck until she bit him on the shoulder, right over where the scar used to be where she’d bitten him before.

She frowned and looked at him. “Where did that bite mark go?”

He shrugged and walked her to the bed. “Dunno. All my scars are gone.”

She leaned back in his arms to look at his chest, which she had memorized. “Holy shit.”

He chuckled and tossed her onto the bed, making her squeak a little. “You wanna see what other scars are gone?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Corny, nerd,” she said softly, then held her arms out to him. “Come here, Sam.”

He fell onto her, and the feeling of his weight on her made tears prick the backs of her eyes. She pressed her face into his warm neck, breathing him in, letting the reality of him solidify in her mind.

He pulled away and kissed her softly, then feathered kisses across her cheeks and nose. “Did you miss me, beautiful?” he asked huskily.

She nodded and caught his mouth with hers again, trying to make sure she didn’t cry on him.

He didn’t seem to care about that, in true Sam fashion. He let one hand wander down to her knee, then ran it up until it was as high as it could go without actually touching her hot core. “Did you miss this?” he asked, moving to press his lips to her ear.

She gasped as he  _ finally _ touched her, moving his thick middle finger through her folds slowly, making her arch her back and keen in want.  _ “Yes,” _ she gasped.

She felt him smile. “Good girl.”

His finger was driving her crazy, and when he started toying with her clit, she began writhing in earnest, sinking her nails into his shoulders. “Sam,  _ please.” _

“Hmm, good girl,” he whispered, “Beg for me. I missed you begging for me.”

He was sending her toward orgasm faster than she could have believed, and the words fell from her lips in a jumble. “Please, Sammy, oh God, I need you, please, Sam, fuck me, I  _ need-” _

“Shh, shh, I know, beautiful, I know. Come for me first, and I’ll fuck you so fucking hard. Come on, baby,  _ come for me.” _

She tilted her head back and screamed as pleasure shrieked through her, heat exploding in her middle. His fingers kept up their fast, insistent rhythm on her clit, pushing her past discomfort and making her pant with need again.

Being with Bella had always been… Nice. It had been like being wrapped in a warm blanket. Soft, warm, and comforting. Bella had been exactly what Chrys’s soul had craved when Sam had been torn away from her.

But being with Sam was like being on  _ fire. _ It was hot, fast, and urgent. His hands were hard where Bella’s had been soft, he was rough where she had been gentle. Chrys had loved being with Bella, but right then she felt like she may actually  _ die _ if Sam stopped touching her.

“Sam,  _ please.” _

He leaned back and stood so he could strip his sweats off. She whimpered at the sight of him, her mouth watering. She twisted so she was up on her knees and pulled her tunic off over her head. She came down on her hands and knees, eyes intent on his big cock (had it always been that big? Jesus fuck), but his hands on her shoulders stopped her.

She looked up at him, a question behind her lips, but his big hand cupped her face and guided her up until he could kiss her again and she was standing on her knees. “Later, beautiful,” he murmured against her lips. “I need you.”

She nodded and twisted again so she could lie on her back.  _ “Yes.” _

He fell onto her again and settled between her legs, pressing against her entrance. He put a big, gentle hand on her knee. “Wrap these gorgeous legs around me, baby.”

She obeyed immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck at the same down so she could pull him down to kiss him again.

He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, familiarizing himself with her again, and her with him. The soft slide of their tongues moving together made her shudder and whimper. She moved her hips desperately, silently begging for him. He pulled away, denying her, and moved away from her mouth and started kissing gently down the line of her jaw.

Her breathing was ragged, and she noted with no small amount of satisfaction that his was, too. “Sam, Sammy, oh God,  _ please, _ Sam, I can’t anymore, please,  _ please-” _

He slowly sank into her, taking her breath away as he stretched her open. It was just this side of painful, and she craved it. The pain was what made it good. The pain had  _ always _ been part of what made it good with Sam.

She tossed her head back with a shuddery sigh when he bottomed out.  _ “Fuck!” _

He pressed his lips against her ear again. “I’m going to fuck you, beautiful, I’m going to fuck you hard. If it gets to be too much, you let me know, understood?”

Knowing that she’d never say a word, she nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He withdrew slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Good girl.”

When he slammed back into her, she tilted her head back again and screamed.  _ “Sam!” _

He set a ridiculous, punishing pace. She kept her legs wrapped around him. It was a struggle, but it kept her just centered enough to keep from absolutely exploding as he drove into her over and over again.

“Sam!”

“Shh, I know,” he whispered in a  _ wrecked _ voice. “I want you to come again, okay? I want to see it again, can you do that for me?”

She nodded, helpless against him, always helpless against Sam. “Yeah, yeah,  _ please.” _

He tilted his hips a little, dragging against her G-spot, making her scream again.  _ “Sam!” _

“That’s one of my favorite sounds in the world,” he husked into her ear, “you screaming my name.”

She didn’t have anything left in her but him, so she gave in to him again.  _ “Sam!” _

He snapped his hips forward just so, at just the right angle, and that combined with his heavy breathing and soft groans in her ear made her whole world go a bright, brilliant white as she imploded again.

_ “Sam!” _

***

They spent the day in bed, relearning each other, fucking each other’s brains out.

Chrys cried on and off, mostly after sex, sometimes during. Sam was gentle and loving, trying to heal her, knowing he couldn’t.

In the early evening, they were too exhausted to move more than to eat the Chinese takeout Sam had ordered earlier.

“Get me a potsticker, Sam, they’re on your side,” she said softly. He watched as she struggled to keep her eyes open with a smile. They were sitting against the headboard, his arm around her shoulders.

“All right, hang on,” he agreed. He leaned over to get the box, then turned back to her.

She was fast asleep, nestled under his arm, her head resting on his shoulder. He chuckled softly, put the box back down on the floor, and carefully took the rest of the food off of the bed. Then he gently rearranged them so they were lying down, her head still resting on his shoulder, him lying on his back.

“I love you, Chrys,” he whispered.

“You, too,” she murmured, almost too softly to hear.

Sam slept better than he had in recent memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	36. It's a Miracle, All Right

Chrys woke up slowly the next morning, wincing. Her eyes ached, and her sinuses were stuffy. She was still tired, but she felt better than she had in a long time. Sam was  _ back, _ and she could feel it now, deep down in her soul, the reality and firmness of him being alive and next to her. He was  _ alive. _

Which meant Dean had done something  _ colossally _ stupid.

She cracked an eye open to see Sam lying next to her, still deeply asleep. She resisted the urge to touch his handsome face, his strong cheekbones, that stubbly  _ jaw. _ She didn’t want him awake just yet, even if his presence was filling the cracks of her broken heart.

She gently slipped out of bed, taking care not to disturb him. She pulled on a pair of patterned leggings and a black tunic quickly, flipping her hair out of the collar. She grabbed a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and her cell phone, then slipped out the door quietly.

She lit up, then typed out a quick text to Dean.

_ “Get the hell out here, Winchester. I have words for you.” _

She smoked in silence for a few minutes before the door right next to hers was opened and Dean emerged, grumbling and pulling his jacket on. He came to lean against the wall next to her. “What do you want, Summers?” he asked, holding his hand out.

She handed him the pack and the lighter without a word.  _ It must have been bad. _ She’d only seen Dean smoke a couple of times, right after Sam had died. It was a reaction to stress, and since God knew she didn’t have a great reaction to stress herself, she didn’t say a word about it.

He lit up and passed the stuff back to her, coughing a little. “Well?”

“Wanna tell me what happened?” she asked softly. “What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?”

She chuckled. “Dean, don’t even start with me. We both know you did something stupid to get him back. Tell me what it was, so we can deal with the fallout.”

He was silent for a while, and she let him think. She had time to wait.

“All right, so when Sammy went into the pit…”

***

When Dean finished speaking, Chrys let the silence settle over them as she tried to absorb. He’d told her everything. The Campbells, the Alphas, the heavenly civil war, being turned into a vampire. The fight with Lisa, being Death for a day, the wall in Sam’s mind.

And, most importantly for her, the love of her life walking around soulless for a year and a half.

“Jesus  _ fucking _ Christ,” she breathed out, leaning back against the motel again.

He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

She took a deep breath and looked at him closely. “Why didn’t you  _ call _ me? I could have  _ helped.” _

He signed  “I was worried, C. I knew as soon as I laid eyes on him that he was off. I didn’t want… I…”

Interpreting his silence, she rolled her eyes. “You thought that you might feel the need to kill him? If he came back too wrong?”   
  
His continued silence was all the answer she needed.   
  
She moved to step in front of him so she could meet his eyes. “You really think you could have? Even if he was… Wrong?”   
  
He shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know. But I didn’t want you to have to be there if you didn’t need to be.”   
  
Chrys thought about being angry for just a second before dismissing the idea. She was still too mellowed out from Sam’s return and copious amounts of good sex to be mad. So she stepped forward to wrap her arms around Dean’s neck and hug him hard. He hesitated, then hugged her back just as fervently.   
  
“Thank you, for being sure before you told me,” she whispered into his warm neck. She wasn’t sure she could have done what Dean had done, live with the uncertainty and the fear. She would have lost it.   
  
He held her tight, then relaxed and let her step back. “Yeah, yeah,” he said gruffly. He sobered a little. “Listen, Chrys, that wall in his head isn’t a guarantee. It’s like seventy-five percent. We gotta keep him from trying to figure out what happened while his soul was in the cage.”   
  
Chrys nodded. “Okay. We’ll have to tell him  _ some _ stuff, but I doubt he’ll be chomping at the bit to have that come crumbling down.”   
  
She’d been hoping for a smile, but Dean was still somber. “C, I’m serious. He did… He did some fucked up stuff before he got his soul back. Stuff that’s not gonna sit well with him now.”   
  
Chrys understood. Her man had quite the hero complex, and when put together with the patented Winchester Guilt and Martyr Complexes…   
  
“He’ll try to make amends. Or at least apologize.”   
  
Dean nodded. “And if that wall comes down, I don’t know what’ll happen. But he probably ain’t gonna come through on the other side.”   
  
“All right,” she said firmly. “So we’ll keep him from asking questions. If he insists, I’ll kick his ass.”   
  
Dean chuckled. “That’s my girl.”   
  
***   
  
Dean watched as Chrys slipped back into her motel room, then leaned back against the wall and heaved a sigh.   
  
He was glad that they had her with them again. He’d missed her sharp tongue and her willingness to put them in their places.   
  
He had absolutely intended to go talk to her as soon as Sam had his soul back. His brother had just stolen his car and beaten him to it.   
  
He felt a little guilty about not calling her before, but not  _ that _ guilty. He’d been telling most of the truth when he’d told her that he hadn’t called her to protect her. He  _ had _ been trying to protect her.   
  
But he’d also been protecting himself.   
  
Because if he hadn’t been able to get Sam’s soul back, one of two things would have happened. Either he would have been willing to kill Sam, and Chrys wouldn’t have, or  _ he _ wouldn’t have been able to, and  _ she _ would have. Either way, there would have been one hell of a fight.   
  
No, it was definitely better that she hadn’t known until now.   
  
***   
  
They were sitting in a diner after breakfast, Chrys and Sam on one side and Dean on the other. Chrys was absentmindedly playing with the fingers of the hand that Sam had placed on her thigh.   
  
_ I missed this. _ Not just Sam, although he had obviously been most of it. But the lifestyle that hunting required soothed some restless part of her soul. The diner food and the hours in the car and the shitty motel rooms and the  _ saving _ people. The underlying righteous purpose to it all. She’d missed hunting.   
  
The calm, slow life she’d built without Sam had been nice, but that was  _ all _ it had been. Some part of her had been unfulfilled. Some part of her had been holding its breath, biding it’s time. Some part of her had been  _ certain _ that Sam was on his way back to her.   
  
So in a little diner in the middle of God knew where, with his big hand warming her leg, Chrys accepted that she would never be anything but a hunter.   
  
She was refilling her coffee when Sam spoke. “So, I think I found us a case.”   
  
She raised her eyebrows, but didn’t stop what she was doing. “Where?”   
  
“Hang on, hang on, hang on,” Dean snapped. “You just got vertical, man!”   
  
Sam stared at him. “Dean, I’ve been back for  _ days. _ Yeah, I’m ready to work.   
  
Dean was frowning. “Well, a few more days of…  _ Whatever _ the two of you have been doing can’t hurt. Let’s take it easy.”   
  
Sam rolled his eyes. “Right, because that’s what you did when you got back from hell.”   
  
Chrys smacked him on the arm. “Rude,” she said mildly. “What’s the case you found?”   
  
***   
  
Sam was watching Chrys sit on one of the beds, looking through a lore book. She’d been having trouble wrapping her head around the idea that they were chasing dragons. “Our life is weird,” she reflected softly, turning the page.   
  
He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah.”   
  
_ They’re lying to me. _   
  
Something was wrong. The way Bobby had reacted to his presence, the way Dean and Chrys shot furtive looks at one another, when Dean said it “hadn’t worked out” with Lisa and Ben. Something was  _ wrong, _ and they were all lying to him about it.   
  
Strangely, he suspected Chrys the least. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew the woman like the back of his hand. He knew she wasn’t lying to him the most. She was definitely lying, but she wasn’t telling the  _ biggest _ lies.   
  
That honor was Dean’s.   
  
“Hey, Chrys?” he asked, feigning casual.   
  
She looked up and smiled, and it was like the sun was rising for him. Before he could bring himself to enact the plan he’d thought of, he was standing, crossing the room, and bending to kiss her thoroughly. She responded immediately, opening for him, raising a soft hand to lay along his jaw.   
  
_ This. _ This was his biggest clue that something wasn’t right around here. Maybe he would have believed Dean, or Bobby, or even Chrys. But Sam didn’t think anything could ever prevent him from knowing how long it had been since he’d had his hands on Chrys. He’d  _ always _ know how long it had been since he’d had his hands on Chrys.   
  
So something was up, because the first time he’d touched her when he’d gotten back felt like a very, very, very long time.   
  
Dean had said he’d been gone for a year, and maybe that would account for it. But if it felt like forever since he’d touched his woman, and if Bobby was acting like Sam had killed his puppy, and Dean and Chrys were no being very subtle about keeping secrets…   
  
Something was  _ definitely _ up.   
  
So instead of laying her down and having his way with her, like he wanted to do, he pulled away and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Are you hungry?”   
  
She blinked, then chuckled. “No, but I’m sure you are.” She started to stand. “You stay here in research mode, I’ll go get you something to eat.”   
  
When she was almost to the door, he couldn’t help himself. He grabbed her arm, spun her until she was against him again, and kissed her hard. She melted beneath his hands, and he held her tight, relishing her softness.   
  
She moaned a little and pulled away, blue eyes sparkling. “What’s gotten into you?”   
  
He shrugged. “I missed you.”   
  
She smiled. “You don’t remember hell. You can’t possibly know for sure you missed me.”   
  
He nodded somberly, keeping eye contact. “Of course I did. I’ll always miss you when we’re apart, beautiful.”   
  
She rolled her eyes. “Corny.” She reached up to kiss him briefly again, then stepped out of his embrace. “Stay here, I’ll be back.”   
  
She left, and he felt a brief pang of guilt for lying to her. Not enough to stop lying to her, but he did feel bad.   
  
Reminding himself that his little family had started the whole “lying” trend this time, he flipped his phone open and dialed Bobby’s number.  _ May as well start with him. _   
  
Bobby answered on the first ring. “Sam. Where’s Dean?”   
  
Sam had to tamp down the hurt that the question brought up. “Hey, um… He went to see your friend.” There was an awkward pause, then, “Hey, look. I’m trying to figure out where this thing lairs up. Little help, maybe?”   
  
“What are the parameters?”   
  
“Caves, basically. But there’s nothing around for miles.”   
  
“So, less literal, then. What else you got local that’s cold, dark, and wet?”   
  
_ Why the hell didn’t I think of that? _ “Huh. Well, uh, there’s no subway lines. Sewers, that could be it.” He smiled. “Thanks.”   
  
“All right,” Bobby said shortly.   
  
“Wait, wait, Bobby,” Sam said quickly before the other man could disconnect the call. “Um… Are you all right?”   
  
Bobby sounded surprised. “Yeah, of course. Why? What’s wrong?”   
  
“Besides the way you’ve been acting and talking? Nothing.” He let the heavy silence rest for a moment, then, “Is there something I should know?”   
  
“No,” Bobby said firmly. “All you need to know is where Godzilla’s holed up.”   
  
Sam wasn’t convinced in the least. “Bobby, what happened this last year?”   
  
“It had its moments. No more than usual. It’s got nothing to do with you, Sam. How could it?”   
  
_ Please. _ “Right, ‘course.”   
  
“Call me if you need anything.”   
  
Before Sam could reply, Bobby hung up. He frowned at the phone, then searched his mind for another answer.   
  
_ Cass. _   
  
He closed his eyes. “Castiel, um… I’m back. So, if you got a minute-“   
  
The sound of flapping wings, then, “Sam. It’s so good to see you alive.” The angel approached to hug him, but Sam sat, avoiding his touch.   
  
“Um, look… I, I would hug you, but-“   
  
“That would be awkward,” the angel said firmly, moving to sit across from him on the other bed.   
  
Sam ran his hands through his hair, hoping this would work. “Um… Was a crazy year, huh? I, I just talked to Bobby. He… He told me everything that happened.”   
  
This had to work. Castiel was the only one who would tell Sam the unflinching truth, and he needed that. He needed to know why his brother, his father figure, and his woman were treating him with kid gloves.   
  
“Frankly,” Castiel said, without missing a beat, “I’m surprised that you survived. I was begging Dean not to do it.”   
  
_ What? Do what? _ “Yeah, no, I can understand that.”   
  
“You know, it’s a miracle it didn’t kill you.”   
  
Still confused, Sam smiled tightly. “Yeah, yeah, it’s a miracle, all right.”  _ We gotta cut to the chase before Chrys gets back. _   
  
There was a beat of silence, then, “So, how does it feel?”   
  
Sam frowned. “What?”   
  
“Well, to have your soul back, of course.”   
  
Shock cascaded through Sam, and his mind kicked into overdrive. “Right. You mean ‘cause I was walking around with no soul. Uh… Really good, Cass. I’m real good.”  _ What the fuck? _ “You know what, though? I’m, I’m just a little hazy on a few of the details, though. Um… You think maybe you could… Walk me through?”   
  
***   
  
Chrys came back to the motel room, absentmindedly basking in the way she could leave Sam alone for a while and not be in crippling pain, and munching on a French fry. She’d gotten him a salad, because who knew what he’d eaten when he was soulless.  _ Time to get back on track, handsome. _   
  
When she opened the door, it was to Castiel frowning, facing her on one of the beds. Sam’s shoulders were tense, and he was looking away from her.   
  
Her eyes widened and her mouth opened to protest, a protest that would be way too late, when Sam turned around.   
  
His eyes were dark and stormy, but he gave her a smile that was genuine enough. “Hey, beautiful.”

_ Uh-oh. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hi, I'm back! I'm sorry about such a long time between updates. My work had a big fundraiser (which was a HUGE success), but it made my mental state a total wreck. Then a friend of mine has been going through something really rough, and I've been trying to be there for her. THEN I finished two of my stories, and they straight up drained all of my creativity. But I'm back, and I missed the hell out of you guys! <3  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	37. No More

Luckily, she was saved from explaining by Dean showing up.

Sam was frowning at the half of a sword that Dean presented proudly. “And what are we supposed to do with this, Dean? Give it a booster shot?”

Dean shrugged. “It's what we got. All right? We're just gonna have to get a little closer. That's all. Where are we on the caves?”

“Not caves, sewers,” Chrys said, pointing at the map they were using. “Here, look at this. Two of the disappearances happened within a mile of here. So I think we should start there.”

Dean made a face. “Awesome. Who doesn’t love sewers?” He sighed. “Let’s go.”

Chrys stood to get her things ready, but paused when Dean spoke.

“What?” He snapped.

She turned to see Sam standing in the middle of the room awkwardly, looking like he wanted to say something. “Uh, nothing. Let’s go.”

Chrys rolled her eyes. She  _ despised _ when they kept secrets from one another.  _ Idiots. _ “Let me get changed.”

***

When she came out of the bathroom, Sam’s mouth almost dropped open. It didn’t, but it definitely went dry.

Chrys was wearing a pair of tight jeans, worn leather boots, and a flannel with the sleeves rolled up. He tried to recall if he’d ever seen her in a pair of jeans before, but he was having difficulty thinking around the heat rising in him.

The light denim highlighted and hugged every curve and nuance in her lovely legs. The flannel brought attention to her breasts, and made him want to rip it off of her. She was slipping on a leather jacket when she noticed him staring. She frowned. “What?”

Sam looked over at Dean, who was looking a little stricken himself. “Just, ah, just never seen you dressed appropriately for a hunt, C,” he said faintly.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t even know you  _ owned _ jeans.”

She smirked and pulled the jacket on the rest of the way, then flipped her hair from beneath the collar in a move that, for some reason, sent all of the blood rushing from his brain. She sauntered toward him, smiled up at him, then at the last second moved past him completely to head toward the door.

“Wipe the drool off your chin, Sammy. Let’s go hunt us a dragon.”

He followed her without a second thought, and without even a look toward his brother.

***

“Ugh!” Dean made a noise of disgust behind them. “God, just when I get used to the smell. Guys, we have been down here for hours. There is  _ nothing. _ I think the lore is off.”

Chrys snorted and kept moving forward, but Dean was right. Not only was it disgusting down here, she was going to have to shower four times to get the smell out of her hair,  _ and _ they had found jack squat in the way of kidnapped virgins.

“Hey, what if, uh,” Dean said hopefully, “What if dragons like nice hotels?”

Chrys chuckled and watched as Sam swung the light around them. He shot her a smirk, which was why she was the only one who saw what the light hit. She put a hand on his arm. “What’s that?” She took Sam’s hand in hers and pointed the light behind Dean.

Dean swung and shone his flashlight in the same direction. It was a pile of gold.

“Holy shit,” the eldest Winchester said softly. He stepped toward the pile and knelt, lifting what looked like a very nice gold watch from the pile. “Okay, maybe there are dragons here.”

When he started to shove stuff in his pockets, Chrys rolled her eyes. “Dean, is now really the time?”

“Guys,” Sam called, “Come check this out.”

She turned to see him examining an altar nearby. She joined him, looking down at the leather-bound book resting atop it.

“A little arts-and-crafty for a giant bat, right?” he asked her. She nodded absently, trying to make sense of the writing on the book.

Before she could get far, a woman’s voice sounded through the tunnel. “Hello? Is someone out there? Hello?”

They set off down the hall, Dean following quickly behind. They crossed what appeared to be an iron catwalk, then found a huge cage beneath them, filled with girls. Chrys tried for a reassuring smile as she knelt, her fingers touching the captive girl’s. “Hey, we’re gonna get you out, okay?”

“Quick! He’s coming back!”

Sam started trying to jimmy the door of the cage open, and Chrys could just watch anxiously.  _ Fuck, fuck, we’re so fucking fucked. _

Before he got far, he was tossed backward. Chrys turned and her eyes widened at the man standing behind them. She jumped to her feet and backed away, looking for a weapon while the thing advanced on Sam.

Dean was quicker. He pulled the dragon sword out of his bag and started to square off with the dragon.

“Where do you think you’re gonna stick that?” it sneered.

Dean lunged forward and sliced into its arm. Chrys smiled when the cut started to pulse purple and the dragon began to hiss. “Where did you get that?”

“Comic-Con.”

She rolled her eyes at her friend’s sass, and it brought her gaze to a pile of tools sitting in the corner. She grabbed two crowbars, kept one, and tossed the other to Sam as she stepped forward, into the battle.

The dragon had somehow disarmed Dean, and was now approaching him with a glowing hand. Chrys stepped forward and brought the crowbar down on its head as hard as she could, then jumped back when it twirled and growled at her. “Get the sword!” she called, stepping back and tilting her head up. “Come on, big boy, let’s play.”

She and the dragon circled each other. He lunged for her and she jumped back, bringing the crowbar down on his shoulder again. It snarled, and its hand started to glow. “Hey, some sword action would be nice right about now!” she called, backing up again.

Just as her ass hit the railing, signalling that she had run out of space to hide, the dragon snarled and arched it’s back. Tendrils of smoke came from his mouth, his eyes flashed white, and it slumped forward.

Sam stood behind it, the sword still in his hand, breathing hard.

Chrys smiled. “My hero.”

He turned to deal with the other dragon, but it was already gone. He turned back and held his hand out to her, over the dead creature’s body. She took it, because she would  _ always _ take Sam’s hand.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, beautiful.”

***

They had come back to Bobby’s house. Chrys was watching Dean play with one of the many gold watches he’d taken with a fond smile.  _ Nerd. _

Sam came out and Dean grinned. “Hey, Sam. Ask me what time it is.” He shook the watch in his hand.

Sam chuckled and came to stand next to her. “Why don’t you cut to the chase and just roll in it?”

Dean scoffed. “I rarely have wealth.” He ignored both of them to continue to mess with it.

Sam took a deep breath. “Dean…”

Dean looked up from the treasure in his hand. “Yeah?”

“I am so… So sorry. I can’t even begin to say.

Chrys rolled her eyes.  _ Here we go. _ At least he was being honest about knowing now. She stayed silent and watched their exchange.

Dean was frowning. “For what?”

“You know what.”

Dean’s expression became thunderous. “Did Bobby-”

“It was Cass,” Chrys supplied gently.

Dean scowled. “Cass. Fucking child.”

Sam was shaking his head. “You should have told me, Dean.” He glanced over at her. “You, too.” She shrugged.

Dean shook his head. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

“What I did?” Sam exclaimed. “To Bobby? To  _ you? _ Of course I should know!”

“Sam, Death didn't just shove your soul back in, okay?” Dean ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. “He put up the great wall of Sam between you and the things that you don't remember. And trust me when I say that the things you don't know could  _ kill _ you. That's not a joke.”

Sam nodded. “All right. But I have to set things right. Or what I can, anyway.”

“Absolutely not,” Chrys snapped, tired of being on the sidelines of the conversation as fury and fear simultaneously overwhelmed her.

Sam looked down at her woefully. “Chrys, I-”

She stepped in front of him and took his chin in her hand, looking up into those incredible hazel eyes, letting her anger at him for his stupid nobility and her absolute love for him guide her. “No,” she said softly, fiercely. “Absolutely not. I am putting my foot down. We are not going to go try to ‘right wrongs,’ or ‘set things right,’ or whatever it is that the stupid Winchester code of whatever dictates we have to do. Understood?”

“Chrys, I  _ hurt _ people,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion.

“Sam,  _ you were hurt,” _ she hissed. “When you were in the cage, he… I mean, you can’t know what he did to you in there. But Cass described what…” She was struggling to maintain her composure. “The  _ damage, _ he described the damage.” Tears pooled in her eyes.  _ “He does not get to win,” _ she whispered fiercely. “Do you understand me, Samuel Winchester?  _ He does not get you a second time. _ I watched you go once, and I can’t do it again.” Her tears started to fall down her face. She ignored them. “I  _ won’t _ do it again. And I won’t let you put Dean or Bobby through that again, either.”

She dashed the tears away angrily then, but kept her hand on his chin, making him keep looking at her. “So I don’t care  _ what _ you did. I don’t care  _ who _ you hurt. I took a backseat when the prize fight came up, and I was all right with that, but no more. You are going to  _ let this go. _ You’re gonna shut up and we’re going to hunt and we’re going to be  _ fine. _ Got it?”

He slowly put a hand cup to cup her face, then nodded, swallowing hard. “Got it, beautiful. Whatever you want.”

She took the last step forward and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re goddamn right whatever I want,” she muttered, pressing her face into his chest.

***

Later, lying on his back in bed with her head on his bare chest, Sam ran his fingers through her hair and, once again, savored the feel of her back in his arms.

He didn’t know what he’d done for that year and a half. He was certain it had been awful, he was certain that people had been hurt. Bobby was still treating him like he might explode at any moment, which was bad enough, but not  _ knowing _ what he’d done was killing him. He burned to find out.

But Chrys’s fierce blue eyes, looking up at him,  _ demanding _ that he let it go, that image was burned into his mind forever. She was right. He’d had to put her (and the baby, his mind insisted on providing painfully) in second place. He’d put the safety of humanity and the world before her, and she had never said a word about it. She had understood, as he had, that what they had wasn’t more important than  _ everything. _

But now he was starting to… Maybe… Rethink that.

The way she felt in his arms was  _ powerful. _ Powerful enough that the rest of the day after they’d gotten back to Bobby’s, he’d kept her there, pulling her into his lap or tucking her into his side. She’d gone willingly, seeming to need it as much as he did.

He  _ loved _ her. Her fighting spirit, her biting words, her bitchy, “go fuck yourself” attitude. He loved the way she moved, the way she could be still. The scars on her lovely flesh, the way her hair now brushed her shoulders, little flashes of blue showing when she turned to look at him.

He  _ adored _ Chrys Summers.

And maybe that  _ was _ more important than everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Short chapter, I know, I'm sorry.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	38. I Remembered

Chrys was sitting on the motel bed, flipping through pages of a newspaper and watching Sam watch TV. They were watching something about an actor who had lost his damn mind. Chrys hadn’t cared about stuff like that when Sam had been alive, and she certainly hadn’t cared when he was dead, so it was news to her.

_ Bells eats this stuff up, though, _ she thought before she could catch herself. Chrys winced as the memory lanced through her.

***

_ “You’re too smart to follow this shit,” Chrys said with a smile, pulling the smaller woman closer. _

_ “It’s not about smarts,” Bella protested, cuddling back into Chrys. “It’s about fantasizing about how much better you would be if you were famous.” _

_ They were sitting up in Bella’s bed, with Bella sitting between Chrys’s legs, leaned back against her. Chrys was wrapped around her, breathing her warm scent in, savoring her soft skin. _

_ “So you’d be one of those classy actresses?” Chrys asked with a smile, resting her chin on top of the redhead’s head. _

_ Bella nodded as much as she could. “I would. And I’d do a lot of charity work.” _

_ “I think I’d just do enough to make enough money to stay at home and never talk to anyone ever again,” Chrys said thoughtfully. _

_ Bella laughed, quickening Chrys’s heartbeat as she did so. “C, you’d be one of those celebrities who got arrested for punching a reporter in the face.” _

_ Chrys grinned. “Only if they said something rude about you, pretty lady.” _

_ Bella laughed. “Kiss ass.” _

_ Chrys moved to press her lips to her woman’s pale, lovely neck. “Only for you,” she murmured. _

_ Bella tilted her head and gave a breathy little moan that sent awareness and heat spreading lazily through Chrys’s blood. _

_ “Oh, Chrys…” _

***

“Chrys? Are you okay?”

She blinked, then smiled at Sam, who had turned to look at her with concern. “Lost you for a sec there,” he said softly.

She shrugged. “Well I’m back now.”  _ Not having that conversation with you, Sammy. _ She wrinkled her nose. “Why are we watching this, again?”

He chuckled. “I’m just trying to catch up,” he explained as Dean came back in. “So, uh, Mel Gibson really took a turn this past year, huh?”

Chrys snorted and Dean pointed at both of them after he shut the door behind them. “Or he’s possessed. Think about it,” the eldest Winchester said darkly.

Chrys laughed, and Sam chuckled and squeezed her leg where his big hand rested on her shin. The gesture made her insides warm.

Dean flopped down on the other bed. “So, I just got off the blower with Bobby.”

Chrys tilted her head. “Anything on the ‘Mother of All’ thing?”

Dean shook his head. “Nothing solid. He says it’s quiet.”

Sam’s cell phone dinged, and he dug it out of his pocket as he spoke. “Quiet like quiet, or like,  _ too _ quiet?”

Chrys scoffed. “When is it ever just quiet?”

Sam smiled at her again. “Right.” He looked down at his phone and frowned. “Hmm.”

Chrys scooted forward to read over his shoulder. “Are those coordinates?”

Dean frowned. “Who’s it from?”

Sam shrugged. “I have no idea.”

Chrys stood and went to the laptop to look up the location as Sam dialed the number. She typed them into the GPS program and tapped her finger as it looked it up.

She felt a presence behind her and looked up to see Dean looming over her. “Well?”

She looked at the computer screen. “Bristol, Rhode Island.” She typed into the search engine and flipped through a couple of news articles quickly. “Where three women have disappeared in the last week. It looks like the victims kind of vanish into thin air.”

Dean nodded. “Could be something.” He looked over at Sam. “Who's the text from?”

Sam shrugged and flipped the phone shut. “I don’t know. It just kept ringing.”

Dean frowned. “What’s that about?”

“Could be another hunter looking for backup,” Chrys suggested.

Sam nodded as he stood. “Who knows how many hunters I met working with the Campbells? We should go.”

“Woah, wait,” Dean snapped, throwing his hands up. “We’re just gonna drop everything?”

Sam frowned. “Dude, two minutes ago, you weren’t doing anything?”

It was Chrys’s turn to frown. “Hold on, you get mysterious coordinates, leading to a mysterious town, and that hasn’t thrown up any red flags for you?”

Sam sighed. “I don’t know, maybe. But that doesn’t mean we can just ignore a bunch of missing girls, right?”

There was a beat of silence, then Dean blew out an explosive exhale. “Okay, we’ll check it out.”

Chrys stood, disquiet threading through her. “But if things get weird, we’re dipping.”

Sam nodded. “All right.”

***

Sam looked around the nautical-themed restaurant while Dean flipped through the folder with the missing persons files in it. Chris stood next to him, ridiculously hot in her fed suit, so he kept his eyes on the decor and off of his woman’s backside.

“Well, freak's got a type,” Dean said cheerfully. “Brunettes.” his eyebrows went up. “Woah. This one's got a little bit of a wild side.” He grinned and held the folder out for Sam. “It's all in the eyes, Sam. See it?”

“I will gut you, Winchester,” Chris said casually, making Sam grin. “Can the sexist crap.”

_ I missed her. _ He didn’t know if that was strictly true, since the soulless version of him hadn’t sought her out. But getting back into the routine with her, having her next to him, it definitely  _ felt _ like it had been a long time.

“Yeah,” Sam said, hoping to earn points. The roll of her blue eyes let him know that his pandering had failed, but the smile on her lips let him know that it was all right.

“Anyway, aside from your ‘deep insight,’ these women actually have nothing in common. Different jobs, different friends, different everything. So what’s the connection?”

Dean shrugged and handed the file to Chrys. “I don’t know. Why don’t you two figure it out? I’m gonna go hit the poop deck,” he said with a smile, pointing toward the bathroom labelled “poop deck.”

Chrys rolled her eyes. “Always the charmer.”

Sam smiled at her, basking in her presence, when a woman approached them. She had a strange look on her face, which for some reason made Sam wanted to keep Chrys far away from her.

“Agent Roark?”

Sam felt Chrys stiffen beside him, and he fought to keep the wince off of his face. The strange woman smiled. “It’s good to see you again.” She gestured to the man now standing next to her. “You remember my husband?”

Sam nodded. “Right.” He didn’t.

“Don,” she simpered.

Sam smiled tightly, starting to get nervous about the waves of anger coming off of Chrys. “Of course, right, hi.”

“So, you’re back ‘cause it started again? The disappearances?”

“Yes,” Crys said with a professional smile. “If you hear anything, please let my  _ partner _ and I know.”

She held out a business card to the woman, but she didn’t take it. “Oh, I already have your…  _ Partner’s _ information.”

Chrys stiffened beside him, but Sam was being consumed by a memory.

***

_ He had her up on the bathroom counter, her soft thighs hugging his hips. She was moaning, pulling his shirt from his belt and mouthing at his neck. _

_ The urge in him was strong, but not… Warm. There was no heat. There was pleasure, which was why he kept doing it, but no warmth or feeling. _

_ She moaned in his ear, and he barely contained an eye roll at her dramatics. She leaned back to look him in the eye. “Cuff me,” she said breathily. _

_ He finally smiled a little. “Yes, ma’am.” _

***

Sam blinked, then met the woman’s eyes without smiling. “Well, give  _ us _ a call if you hear anything.”

Bonnie, whose name he’d finally remembered, simpered again and walked away on her very irritated husband’s arm.

“What was  _ that?” _ Dean asked cheerfully as he joined them again. “She just cougar-eyed the fuck out of you.”

“Yeah, Sam,” Chrys said coldly, crossing her arms. “What was that?”

Sam swallowed hard and turned to look at her lovely, furious face. “So, uh, I think that she and I, uh, I mean the  _ soulless _ me, and her, I mean, we-”

She growled low under her breath, stepped forward, and wrapped her hand around the back of his neck to pull him down to kiss him fiercely. He grunted softly, then put his hands on her hips to pull her snug against him.

_ There _ was the heat. It made him crave her, made his blood sing, and he suddenly wished they were alone.  _ Well, there’s always the bathroom… _

Before he could suggest it, she pulled away and smirked up at him. “I don’t care that you fucked other women, Sam,” she said softly. “That’s not what I’m angry about, you big idiot. I’m angry because I think you  _ knew _ you’d been here before.”

He frowned. “What? No, I didn’t.”

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t move away from him, which was comforting. He wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her close as she spoke.

“Sam, on the way in, when we passed the city limits sign. You practically  _ flinched.” _ She hit him in the chest. “You’ve been here before, you jackass.”

“Yeah, you have,” Dean agreed, holding up a polaroid of two men Sam didn’t recognize. But in the background were Sam and Samuel.

“We’re leaving,” Chrys said firmly, anger simmering beneath the words.  _ “Now.” _

***

“The love of my life is a fucking idiot,” Chrys snarled under her breath.

After they’d figured out that Sam and his grandfather had definitely been in this town before, Chrys and Dean had gone to further investigate. She had made Sam  _ swear _ that he would stay in the motel and wait. It had gone all right for a while, he’d been at the motel every time they had called while they tried to find out what the hell was going on.

Whatever was hunting these women was hunting them to hurt Sam. Each one of them had had an…  _ Encounter _ with the tall hunter. Chrys had been being honest when she’d told Sam she wasn’t mad about the women. She  _ hadn’t _ been mad about the women. Of course, four women in a case that had supposedly taken just a few days to solve had her a little murderous, but she pushed that down and focused on saving them.

She could kick Sam’s ass later.

She should have known that, in the end, he wouldn’t stay  in the motel. The thought of people disappearing because he’d screwed up would never sit right with him. So he’d bailed.

_ Idiot. _

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean muttered next to her as they crept up to the Dobbs’s house. “Let’s just make sure he’s around so you can bitch at him.”

Chrys winced at the thought of the alternative, but never faltered as they got to the house.  _ He’s fine, _ she assured herself.  _ He’s going to be fine. _

He was standing on the front porch when they got there, and she couldn’t help the way her whole body relaxed just a fraction at the sight. She holstered her weapon. “Sam,” she called softly, not wanting to startle him. Winchesters had a tendency to shoot first when they were surprised.

Despite her warning, he jumped and reached for his gun before he realized who they were. He frowned as they joined him. “I almost shot you guys.  _ Again. _ What the hell?”

“We figured you’d come to talk to her,” Dean said, pointing toward the house. “Come on. We gotta get you out of here. Let’s go.”

Sam shook his head. “No, look. I know what we’re dealing with. It’s an Arachne.”

Dean frowned. “A what?”

“I remembered.”

_ “Excuse _ me?” Chrys hissed. “What else have you  _ remembered?” _

He stepped toward her and reached a hand out to her. She stayed still and let him pull her close, but didn’t respond to him.  _ Dick. _

“Look, don’t worry. It’s nothing to do with hell.”

“Not yet it’s not,” she snapped, still stiff in his arms.

“I didn’t do anything to bring this on, Chrys,” he said, desperation tinging his tone “It’s just starting to come back, all right? Maybe it’s natural.”

She looked up at him, knowing the answer already. “Let’s go,” she whispered urgently. “We can get someone else to take care of this. We’re not the only hunters, let’s just go.”

“He… I know who’s doing this, and he’s already got them,” he said softly, his hazel eyes begging her to understand. “We’re the only chance those women have. And I….” He swallowed hard. “Chrys, I used the guy as  _ bait.” _

Chrys heaved a sigh and let her head fall against his chest. “Fine, but this is the  _ only _ one.”

His hand came up to thread through her hair and hold her against him. “Deal.”

Dean sighed. “Look, the shed lights are on. I think that’s probably where we need to be.”

Chrys looked up and nodded. “You guys go in, I’ll come around back.”

Sam pressed a kiss to her forehead and nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

They broke away from one another, and Sam held her hand until he physically couldn’t anymore, then let their fingers brush against each other before he finally turned away. She rolled her eyes as she pulled her gun, but her heart was warm when she crept around the house and to the back of the shed.

Dean’s muffled shout let her know that something was wrong. The ensuing silence confirmed it, and she kept up her stealth as she crept around the shed.  _ Shit shit shit. _

She got to the door of the shed, and heard the creature ranting at Sam.

“I got to say, you get a hell of a lot wrong, Sam, like that thing you threw me to. You thought it was here to feed.”

“She was here to breed.” The sound of Sam’s voice sent relief washing through her again, and she was able to focus.  _ Need to find out where the women are. _

She looked around for a weapon while she listened to the Arachne. “Yeah. That thing was playing the mating game, and I guess I fit her profile...Me and all those other poor bastards. She bit us to turn us into what she was. By the time you pulled that trigger, I wasn't human. Not anymore. So bullets didn't hurt me much. Oh, and neither did fire. So after you left, well, we ran. Me? I hid for months, nearly starved. But you know what kept me going? Every night, I dreamed about ripping your throat out.” The creature’s voice held relish and passion, which made Chrys’s blood run cold as she searched. “I thought I was sending you a neon sign. The text? Taking all those girls you fucked? I was kicking so much sand in your eye, I couldn't figure out why you weren't getting it! Then Bren tells me you've got brain damage. It's just too good.”

_ There, the axe. _ She picked it up, hefted it a few times to familiarize herself with its weight, then stood just outside the door, just waiting for the thing to either make a move or reveal where the women were.

“Where are they, Roy? The women?”

“Scattered… In the wind. They're like me now. You killed one monster, you made so many more.”

_ Ugh. _ Chrys was done with this thing’s fascination with Sam. So she came around, took one long stride, and swung the axe as hard as she could. The thing never even saw her coming, and she took its head off in one clean swipe. A fine spray of blood hit her in the face, and she smiled ferally, satisfaction swimming through her veins. Something about killing whatever it was that was threatening her family sat well with her.

Dean had somehow freed himself, and he was currently untying Sam. Chrys dropped the axe, wiped her face on the tail of her flannel, and watched as he got to his feet, concern in his hazel eyes. “Are you all right?” she asked softly, coming to stand next to him and quickly inventorying him for injuries.

He nodded. “Yeah, I guess.” At her frown, he sighed. “I’m fine, I just, what he said-”

“Nope,” she said softly, shaking her head at him. “No feeling guilty about this. We’ll let some other hunters track those things down, and we are done here. Got it?”

He sighed, then nodded. “What am I gonna tell Brenna? That her husband was some spider creature, and I-”

“Not a damn thing,” Dean said easily. “We’re just gonna get rid of him and get the hell out of here before she notices.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Chrys said softly.

***

They were packing up their stuff at the hotel, and Chrys was struggling not strangle the Winchester brothers.

Sam was being quiet and withdrawn, clearly troubled by something. Which was kind of who he was, anyway, the man’s guilt complex had only one rival, but it drove her crazy each time. And since she knew what this was about, it was driving her  _ extra _ crazy.

Dean was shooting worried glances at his brother, also clearly troubled, also not saying a damn thing about it. As the one and only contender for the “Feels Guiltiest for Shit He Can’t Change” prize, he was being just as bad as Sam.

_ The only option is to strangle them both and move to Aruba. _

“You okay?” Dean asked roughly.

Sam sighed. “You were right. We shouldn’t have come back here.”

Chrys rolled her eyes.  _ Drama queens. _ She came to stand next to him, putting her hand on his arm to still his packing, and so he would look at her. She met his gaze head-on. “Sam, we got the monster. We killed him before he hurt more people.”

He frowned. “So you’re saying what I did back there was a good thing?”

“Okay, first of all,  _ I _ killed it, so you didn’t do shit. And second of all, he was hurting people. Yeah, it was the right call.”

He was outright scowling now, which was all right with her. She’d gotten better at comforting people, but she still wasn’t  _ good _ at it. Fighting was more her forte, and she was damn good at that. “Chrys, I’m the one who hurt  _ him. _ I used him as bait, purely out of selfish reasons, and he suffered for it. And then I just  _ shot him in the head. _ And assumed it would be all right.”

“Hey, man, you gotta understand,” Dean protested. “All that crap last year,  _ all _ of it, none of that was you.”

Sam turned to glare at Dean. “Let’s be crystal clear, okay? It  _ was _ me.”

Chrys rolled her eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Sam, it was not.” When he turned to argue with her again, she overrode him. “It was a soulless creature wearing your face.” She cupped that same face, her thumb tracing his cheekbone, trying to soften his hard stare. “We can’t keep having this conversation, and I’m not backing down. So you’ve got to accept that what happened happened and  _ move on.” _

Before another word was said, his hazel eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he collapsed in front of her. Fear made her heart stutter as she dropped to her knees next to him. It scared her more than she was comfortable with to see her strong, tall hunter fall at her feet. “Sam?  _ Sam!” _

Dean was on his other side, his hands on either side of Sam’s head, shaking him. “Sam! Sammy!  _ Talk to me!” _

Her stomach turned in terror when her lover started to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	39. Come Back to Me

“Sam!  _ Sam?!” _

Dean’s cries would have broken Chrys’s heart if it hadn’t been too busy beating so hard it made her chest ache. Sam had screamed only once, but it was already on the list of the top five worst moments of her life. It was remarkable how many of those moments featured losing Sam.

She ran her hand down his face, trying to relax his clenched jaw and furrowed brow. “Come back, Sam,” she said softly, “Come back to me.”

Dean stood and started to pace, his movements jerky and agitated. She knew the lamp was done for before he reached it. “Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck!’ _ he cried as he tossed it across the room. The sound of it shattering made her jump a little, but she didn’t move from where she’d pulled Sam’s head into her lap.

“We’ve got to get him away from here,” she said gently, still stroking Sam’s stubbly cheek.

As she spoke, his hazel eyes fluttered open. Her heart thumped hard in her chest again, and she smiled down at him. “Hey, hey, take it easy, okay?”

He stared at her for a moment, then surged up and wrapped his arms around her to crush her to his chest at an awkward angle. She blinked, then leaned into him and tilted her head, giving him more room to press his face into her neck. He was breathing hard, and he barely even grunted to acknowledge when Dean dropped to his knees next to them.

“How long?” Sam asked in a ragged voice.

She frowned, wishing her arms weren’t trapped between them so she could touch him. “How long what?”

He didn’t let her go, just spoke into her neck. “How long was I… Was I gone?”

Chrys met Dean’s worried gaze over Sam’s shoulder. “Gone?” Dean questioned. “You mean how long were you out? Two minutes, three tops, man.”

Chrys leaned back just a little, just enough to get Sam to look up at her. “How long was it for you?” she asked softly, watching those lovely hazel eyes for signs of deception.

She needn’t have bothered. There was just hollowness, fear, and the echo of pain there. “About a week, it felt like.”

She winced, and finally wiggled an arm out from between them. She ran her fingers through his hair, assuring herself that he was alive and well. “Well, you’re here with us now,” she said in a low voice. “And we’ll get you out of here, okay?”

He leaned into her touch and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

***

It was late when Dean finally felt they’d travelled enough to be a safe distance from the town the Arachne had been in. Chrys watched both brothers like a hawk from the backseat, looking for signs that Dean was too tired drive, or that Sam was about to go down again. She’d wanted him to sit in the back with her, but he’d insisted he was fine.

_ My ass, _ she thought resentfully as Dean navigated the Impala into the parking lot of a little motel. Her anxiety level was too high to just sit there, so she was already opening the door when he put it into park. “I’ll go get the room.”

“Get two,” Dean said as he dug cash out of his coat pocket and handed it to her through the open driver’s side window.

She nodded and took the bills. “Done and done.”

***

Sam watched as Chrys walked to the office, appreciating the way she moved for a moment before turning to his brother. “Why two rooms?”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, I’m gonna sign up to watch you two make googly eyes at each other all night. No, thank you.”

Sam frowned. “Come on, it’s not like we can’t control ourselves.”

Dean sighed and looked upwards. “Why does everyone think I’m the insensitive brother, again? Is it because I’m the better-looking one?”

Sam ignored him. “What are you talking about?”

Dean sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Look, Sam, C is gonna need you. Trust me, two rooms is the way to go.”

“Why would you think that?”

Dean groaned. “Look, she’s gonna want to… I don’t know, man, I know her, and she’s just gonna need you.”

Anger started to bubble in Sam’s chest. He latched onto it, it was better than the soul deep fear and guilt that was threatening to drown him. So anger it was. “And how would you know that, exactly? And what’s with calling her ‘C?’” He was starting to warm to his subject. “You two seem awfully damn cozy-”

“Fuck you, Sam,” Dean interrupted, his voice low and dangerous. “Just go fuck yourself, all right? You didn’t have to be here. You didn’t have to pick up the pieces, you didn’t… You didn’t have to see her.” When his brother turned to look at him, the rage in Dean’s eyes took Sam by surprise. “You were dead, and we had to keep going somehow. So, yeah, we kept an eye on each other.”

Sam took a deep breath and nodded briefly. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

Dean’s face didn’t change an iota. “And God help me, Sam, if you bring this up to Chrys, I hope she breaks your fucking arm.” He levelled a finger at Sam. “I mean it,  _ don’t. _ She went through some rough shit, don’t you drag her through it again. Understood?”

Sam stared at his brother. Dean was right, the anger Sam had been clinging to wasn’t justified. He knew they hadn’t done anything even remotely romantic. He knew Chrys backward and forward, he knew the way she moved when she’d been intimate with someone, and she didn’t move that way with Dean. She’d moved that way with Bella, but not with Dean. Sam wasn’t so insecure that he had to be jealous of nothing.

“Understood,” he said softly.

“What’s understood?”

They both turned at Chrys’s suspicious voice through the open window. She was holding room keys and a receipt, and her pretty blue eyes were narrowed at the two of them.

“Nothing,” Dean said too loudly. “Got the rooms?”

She stared at them for another moment, then handed Dean one of the keys. “Smooth,” she said dryly, “but whatever. Let’s get some rest, Winchesters.”

***

_ He looks so tired. _

Chrys got them settled in for the night silently, keeping a worried eye on her soulmate. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his movements were slow and careful. It broke her heart a little bit, but she restrained herself. She suspected Sam wouldn’t let her coddle him like she wanted to.

But when he sank onto the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands, her control shattered.  _ Fuck it. _

She knelt in front of him, fought with herself for a moment, and started to unlace his boots. When he put his weight on his forearms and let his hands dangle between his thighs, she didn’t look up at him. She just tugged until he lifted his leg enough that she could pull the boot off, then she repeated on the other.

When that was done, she gently rolled his socks off. She tucked them into his boots and placed them at the foot of the bed. Then she stood and took his hands into hers, tugging until he was standing, too.

He just stared down at her. “Chrys, what are you doing?”

“Shut up, Sam,” she said softly as she took the hem of his shirt into her hands. “Arms up.”

He frowned, but obeyed, and she stripped the t-shirt off of him, going on tiptoe to pull it over his head. She tossed it into the corner of the room, then placed a brief kiss to his warm, muscled chest before starting to unbutton his jeans.

“Chrys, I’m not an  _ invalid, _ I can do this myself.”

“Shut up, Sam,” she said serenely as she pulled the zipper down on his jeans. She slowly slid them down his long legs, then tapped each calf in turn to get him to step out of them.

He did, but he was still frowning down at her. “Chrys, I-”

“Shut up, Sam,” she repeated as she took his hand and tugged him into the bathroom. She met his eyes and silently begged.  _ Please let me take care of you, it’s the only thing I can think to do. _

Though no words were spoken aloud, he seemed to get the message. He nodded briefly, and his eyes softened as he let her lead him to the shower.

Once there, she slid his boxers down his legs, then quickly stripped herself. She turned the shower on, made sure it was hot, then took his hand and pulled him in with her.

She put his back to the spray, then reached up and threaded her fingers through his thick hair. She used her gentle hold to tilt his head back, letting the water hit it. She let him go just long enough to pour shampoo into her hand, then reached up again to gently wash his dark locks thoroughly. She tilted his head back again to rinse out the suds.

Done with that, she took one of the washcloths and the bar of soap and started to wash the rest of him.

There was nothing sexual about the way she ran the cloth from his neck, along his broad shoulders, down his thick arms. Some part of her was appreciating the hard planes of his chest and the ridges of muscles in his stomach, but this wasn’t about sex.

She washed across his stomach, his hips, down his legs. She washed him, trying to tell him without speaking how much she loved him, how glad she was that he was back, and how terrified she was about this new scary wrinkle in their lives.

When she was done, she stood, suddenly unsure of herself. She’d been so absorbed in her task, she wasn’t sure what to do now that it was done.

The soft warmth in his hazel eyes made her pulse quicken. He cupped the back of her head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Then he slowly took the soap and cloth from her. “Your turn.”

She frowned and opened her mouth to protest. This wasn’t about her, it was about him. He smothered her words with a kiss. “Please, Chrys,” he whispered against her mouth.

She understood, more than he knew. So she nodded and let him gently rearrange them so she was standing under the spray. He washed her hair, and she found herself leaning into his touch.

“This is growing on me,” he said softly, fingering the tips of her faded blue hair. “I like it.”

She didn’t open her eyes. “I couldn’t keep it,” she whispered. “I couldn’t keep it long while you were gone. Or the skirts.”

He stilled, and she winced.  _ Dammit. _ She hadn’t meant to say that, or to tell him anything about the year and a half his soul had been in hell.

The night after he’d gotten back, when they’d slept together for the first (second first) time, they hadn’t talked. Not about anything important, they’d chatted about news and trends. They’d talked dirty, about missing one another’s flesh and hands and mouths. But they hadn’t talked about  _ this. _

He pulled her closer, and she automatically tucked herself into him. She hoped he would shut up about it, but she knew better. Her lover wasn’t the kind of man who let things go.

“Tell me about it,” he said softly, his low voice rumbling in his chest.

She thought for a beat, then, “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

***

Sam listened raptly to Chrys’s story.

His heart broke when she told him about going back to NA, about long nights shaking and digging her fingernails into her palms. About the two times she actually had keys in hand to leave to use, but had put them down, locked herself in the bathroom, and called Dean. Sam dried her off gently as she spoke, to hide his own trembling hands.

Once they were dressed and in bed, facing one another on the same pillow, he listened as she told him about living with Kevin, Serene, and Jesse. She told him about Jesse’s growing control of his powers, and his growing height. “He might be as tall as you someday, Sammy.” She told him about the routine they’d fallen into, about how it had helped.

She told him about the decision to cut her hair and ditch the skirts. About moving into her own apartment and learning things about herself. About cooking and old movies and long nights spent in silence, just exploring her own company.

Then, in a halting voice that was barely above a whisper, she told him about Bella.

How they met, their first few dates, the decision to move in together. Sam quelled the burning jealousy in his heart. Not just over Bella, though he very much despised the idea of someone else’s hands on Chrys, man or woman.

He was jealous over the life Bella had been able to give Chrys. The apartment, the job, the peace. No matter what he did, Sam could never give her those things.

He managed to keep those feelings off of his face, though. She didn’t need all of his crap on top of hers.

Her face was tucked into his neck, and they were tangled up in each other as she wound down.

“I never stopped turning to talk to you, when something happened. I never stopped talking to you.”

He blinked and pulled her closely. “Really?”

She nodded, never lifting her head. “Always. And it never stopped surprising me when you weren’t there.”

He leaned back just enough to press his lips to her forehead. “I’m sorry, beautiful.”

She looked at him frankly. “I know. I understand, it’s okay.”

It really hit Sam then, that she was in  _ love _ with him. The woman in his arms was not the one the outside world saw every day. The softness here was something no one else got to see, at least not to the extent he did. She was hard and biting and mean, not soft and lovely.

_ Shit. _

“You’re right,” he said roughly.

She blinked, then smiled softly. “Well, yeah. But about what?”

“No more. No more investigating, or digging. If we’re somewhere and I think I was there before, we’ll leave. I’m sorry I pushed, we’ll-”

Her soft, cold fingers on his lips stopped him as her smile slipped off of her face. “Where is this coming from?” she asked, her blue eyes searching his.

“I… I guess I just realized what it must have done to you.” He pulled her into him again, holding her as close as possible. “I couldn’t have done it,” he whispered raggedly into her hair. “I couldn’t have let you go, let you die. You’re incredible.”

Her arms were around him, and she was holding him just as fiercely as he was her. She pressed her face into his neck again. “I was so scared, back in that motel room,” she whispered. “I thought I lost you again, I thought he  _ won _ again, I-”

_ “Never,” _ he promised, “Never again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	40. I Just Forgot

Chrys woke up still tired. It wasn’t just physical, it was a soul-deep exhaustion, and she fought with herself only for a moment to turn and bury her face in Sam’s warm chest.

She hadn’t particularly intended on baring her soul to him the night before. She just… Wasn’t sure if she could to say no to him. And after he’d taken care of her, and asked her to tell him, she couldn’t have stopped herself even if she’d wanted to.

And Bella… She hadn’t intended to give him Bella. She hadn’t intended to tell him  _ anything _ about the year and a half she’d had to live without him. But he’d hit her with those stupid, beautiful, jackass, incredible, hazel eyes, and she’d spilled her stupid damn guts.

He groaned and pulled her close, burying his face in her hair and breathing in deep without waking up. Part of her wanted to get up and go run it off, run away from her problems and her depression and her upset. But heat was baking off of him like a furnace, and his strong arms were holding her close, and God help her but he smelled  _ amazing. _

So she cuddled into him a little and let herself drift back to sleep.

***

Sam woke up slowly, lying on his back. Chrys was sprawled on top of him, her hair spilled across his chest, fast asleep.

He raised a hand and gently ran his hands through those thick, dark locks, little flashes of blue catching his eye as he watched it fall. She slept through it, just nuzzled his chest a little and snored very, very softly.

He smiled and kept up his ministrations, his heart thudding in his chest when she sighed just a little bit and cracked an eye open. It took a moment for her to focus on him, then she glared at him. “Jesus fucking Christ, Sam, what time is it?” she grumbled.

He laughed out loud, still running his fingers through her hair. “Early.”

She grumbled and pressed her face into his chest. “Do we have to get up?”

He hauled her up so she was close enough to kiss thoroughly. She hummed softly into his mouth, and he felt the sound everywhere. “No,” he murmured against her lips.

Her mouth curved into a smile, which made his heart beat faster, just like it always did. “It feels like  _ you’re _ already up,” she purred, grinding her hips just a little against his.

He bucked his hips and pinned her to the mattress, savoring the way she molded to him, her long legs tangling themselves in his and her arms coming up to wrap around his neck. He pressed little kisses across her face, grinning when she rolled her eyes and threaded her fingers through his hair to keep him still enough to kiss. He submitted, just this once, and let her dominate the kiss, just thrusting against her gently.

She moaned and tilted her head back, and he used his advantage to press his lips against her warm, soft neck. She shuddered beneath him, and Sam felt a familiar sense of both power and helplessness against her. He knew every part of her body, every spot that would make her writhe or cry out or gasp. She was also submissive as hell, which when held in contrast to her bossy, take charge attitude, was incredibly arousing.

But she could take him apart with a touch. With a coy look over her shoulder, her lovely hair wild around her face, could have him begging for it. And the look in her eyes, whether she was on her knees or beneath him or even riding him, when he was inside her made him crazy.

“You should do something about that,” he murmured against her soft skin.

Her smile made him dizzy. “I think I can manage that.”

***

“Come on, man, I, I can't just leave!”

Chrys rolled her eyes as the brothers argued in the factory their latest case had brought them to.

Ben had called Dean, then Chrys, to tell them that Lisa was in trouble. It had sounded like either depression or some sort of possession. Chrys was of the opinion that Den should go, at least just check on them. She and Sam could deal without him for a couple of days.

“Dude, you’ve  _ got _ to leave,” Sam insisted.

“Yeah, but we’re talking life or death here!”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Chrys snapped. She stepped in between them and looked up at Dean. “Go. Go check on Lisa, go talk to Ben, go get them through whatever it is they’re struggling with.”

The raw look in his green eyes had her softening against her will. “C, she said she was done,” he said, his rough voice just above a whisper. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me, she doesn’t want to try anymore.”

Chrys sighed a little. “Dean, just because she said that doesn’t mean she doesn’t care. And it  _ especially _ doesn’t mean that  _ you _ don’t care.” She patted him on the chest. “So go. Sammy and I will hold down the fort. We can figure it out for twenty-four hours.”

He stared down at her for another minute, then nodded once, briskly, and walked away.

Chrys turned to Sam and smiled. “Well, just the two of us, handsome.”

He smiled and looped an arm around her waist. “So you guys got pretty close while I was… Gone, huh?”

She nodded and pressed close to him. “Yeah, we did,” she said softly. “Just… We had to, you know.” She smiled wanly up at him. “We were the only ones outside the life who knew what it was like to lose you.”

He looked down at her with sorrow in his eyes, then kissed her on the forehead tenderly. “Yeah,” he said gently. “Let’s, uh… Let’s get to work, beautiful.”

The return of her pet name warmed her in ways she didn’t want to think about.

***

“So, how long have you been here with the company?”

Chrys watched Jonny, the man they were interviewing about the attacks, very carefully. She could tell from the way Sam was speaking that he was suspicious of him, too.

Jonny blinked. “I’ve been here about three years now.” He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, what’s this got to do with me?”

Sam held a hand up. “Relax. Just a routine questioning.”

Jonny looked moderately relieved. “Oh. Okay.”

“Did you know Rose Brown?” Chrys asked.

Something about Rose’s sister, Isabel, had brought out something very protective in Chrys. Maybe it was because she reminded Chrys of Bella, maybe it was the heartbroken way she had spoken of her deceased sister. Either way, Chrys was determined to find out what the hell had happened, and she suspected that Jonny had had something to do with it.

“Uh… Maybe.” At Chrys’s hard look he elaborated. “Uh, the name sounds kind of familiar.”

Chrys’s eyes narrowed, but Sam’s big hand on her lower back had her biting her tongue and letting him speak, instead. He had always been better at not being aggressive toward suspects.

“She was a seamstress here. She went missing about a year ago.” Sam pulled out a photo of the dead girl. “Here, you mind taking a look?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jonny said uneasily. “I saw… I saw her around.”

“Anything you can tell us about her that might help?” Chrys asked tightly.

Jonny was sweating, which made Chrys want to wring his neck. “Uh, look, I’d love to help, but I don’t know anything, and, uh, I’m about to be late back from break, so-”

“You seem nervous, Jonny,” Chys snapped.

He frowned. “Well, those guys that died were my friends. Of course I’m gonna be upset.”

“She didn’t say upset,” Sam said coldly. “She said nervous. Here,” he handed the guy a business card. “In case you remember anything.”   


***

Sam kept a restraining hand fisted in Chrys’s shirt while they listened to Jonny speak on the phone. She was shooting him irritated looks for it, but he knew she was about to be at the end of her rope. 

“Why am I flipping out?! I, I don't know, maybe 'cause of the feds! Maybe 'cause Dave and Steve are freaking dead. Look, no. No. Just… Call me later.”

Sam watched as Jonny lifted a hand to wipe the blood on his forehead, then the realization that there was a new gash there dawn the kid’s face. When Jonny exhaled and his breath came out in a cloud, Sam finally let Chrys go.

She ran to the kid, growling, and dragged him to the middle of the room. “Come on, fuckwit,” she growled.

“What’s going on?” Jonny sputtered.

“That was a ghost trying to kill you,” Sam said dryly as he poured a salt circle.

“For being a fuckwit,” Chrys snapped. “You’re lucky that you gave the most suspicious interview of all time, and that Sam is nicer than I am.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

Sam watched as Chrys rolled her eyes. “Look, we have no time for a big speech. Rose is back. She killed your friends. Unless you tell us what you did to her, she’s going to kill you, too.” She smiled tightly. “Which I think you probably deserve, but Sam is a sap, so go ahead and tell him what you did.”

“This… That’s…” Jonny ran a hand through his hair. “God dammit, it was just a stupid joke!”

Sam grabbed Chrys’s shirt and pulled her out of the circle, far enough that she couldn’t swing at Jonny. “What did you do?” Sam asked darkly, trying to control his own anger, too.

“We made Rose think she had a secret admirer,” Jonny admitted, then flinched away when Chrys quite literally snarled. “I don't think the girl had ever been asked out in her life,” he said nervously, eyeing Chrys. “Honestly, we just thought she was kind of pathetic… So we knew she'd take the bait. She was so excited. The poor girl never saw it coming. She, she tried to leave, and Steve grabbed her. She fell… And she hit her head. Hard.”

“You motherfuckers,” Chrys breathed out, eyes wide. “You fucking  _ killed _ her, and then you fucking  _ buried _ her somewhere to save your own  _ asses.” _ She looked up at Sam, retribution swirling in the sapphire depths of her eyes. “Let’s let her have him,” she whispered fiercely. “She deserves to get a little payback.”

Sam shook his head. “Chrys-”

“I know, I know,” she interrupted, turning to glare at Jonny again. “We don’t get to decide which humans live and die. Whatever.” She turned and walked out.

Jonny looked at Sam. “She wouldn’t… Really let me die, would she?”

Sam ignored the question, he didn’t feel like reassuring the guy. “Where did you bury Rose, Jonny?”

***

“So, that the girl with the haunted kidney?”

Chrys was pacing and smoking, angry and distraught. “God dammit,” she muttered. They had found out that burning Rose’s bones hadn’t worked, and then found out that Isabel was carrying one of her sister’s kidneys.  _ Shit. _

“Well, just when you think you’ve seen it all,” Dean said thoughtfully. Chrys growled a little and took a deep drag.

“What do you want to do?” Dean asked. “Can’t exactly  _ burn _ the thing. I mean, she kind of needs it.”

“Well, she can’t just walk around with it, Dean.” At Chrys’s snort, Sam winced and met her eyes. “She  _ can’t, _ Chrys. The spirit’s attached. It’s gonna use her to get close to anyone it wants revenge on It’s not gonna stop killing.”

“So what do you want us to do, Sam?” she snapped. “Cut it out of her?”   


Sam sighed, not rising to the bait, which made her angrier. “Of course not. What would we do, leave her in a tub of ice with a phone taped to her hand?”

“Maybe we should call Dr. Robert,” Dean said placatingly, clearly trying to play peacekeeper. “He might have some leads on some non-haunted, black market replacement kidneys.”

“He works out of a  _ butcher _ shop!” Chrys said disbelievingly.

Dean shrugged. “It’s pretty clean. You’d be surprised.”

Sam was shaking his head. “No, I think we have to go hoodoo.”

That brought Chrys up short. “Hoodoo… Might actually work. More of a band-aid than a cure, but it’ll buy us some time.”

Dean nodded, a relieved look on his face. “All right, Louisiana it is.”

_ “Voodoo?” _ Isabel cried. Chrys whirled around, eyes widening at the sight of Isabel out of the car, standing behind them. “What the hell are you people talking about?”

“Actually, it’s ‘hoodoo,’” Dean said conversationally. “It’s a little different.”

Isabel took a step back, and Chrys held a hand out. “Hold on, Isabel, please.”

The girl shook her head. “You’re not feds.”

“Just let us explain,” Sam said softly, and Chrys was relieved to hear his patented “I’m basically a puppy dog who’s harmless and you can trust me” voice.

Before they could find out if it had worked, the Impala revved behind them. Chrys reacted before she could think. She grabbed Isabel and pulled her along as she ran to the convenience store they’d parked near. On the way, she snagged Sam’s arm and pulled him with her. “Come  _ on,” _ she snapped, dragging both of them with her. “Dean! Let’s go!”

“No, no, no, no, no, no!” Dean was shouting. “She possesses sex dolls! That is not a sex doll!”

“Dean!” Sam shouted as they ran.

Dean started to move backward, but was still facing the car. “Hey, you leave my baby alone! She’s got nothing to do with this!”

He finally turned and ran with them, and Chrys punched him in the shoulder as he got in. She slammed the door behind him. “God dammit, Dean,” she snapped.

They huddled next to the counter as the car’s lights flashed in the window. Dean was standing there, a pained look on his face. “I’m so sorry, Baby.”

The engine revved again, and Chrys felt Sam wrap his arm around her and turn to shield her as the car came crashing through the front window. She couldn’t help the little squeak that escaped her, though nothing hit her with her soulmate’s huge frame keeping her from harm.

When everything had settled, Sam lifted his head and looked around. “Okay, everyone all right?” He looked down at Chrys, and his huge hand cradled her face. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, running his thumb across her cheekbone.

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.” She turned. “Isabel?”

The girl nodded. “Yeah, I’m-”

But her words were cut off by blood pouring from her mouth. Chrys went cold and rushed to her, finally spotting the huge shard of glass sticking out of her stomach. Chrys caught her when her knees buckled. “Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay, sweetheart, just hang on.”

Isabel’s eyes widened, and Sam inhaled sharply. Chrys turned as much as she could while still holding the wounded girl to see the spirit of Rose standing behind her.

“I’m sorry,” the ghost said in an echoing, sad voice. “I didn’t mean for this.”

Then she went up in flames, and Isabel stopped breathing in Chrys’s arms.

***

Sam watched Chrys smoke in Bobby’s backyard. He took the opportunity to just study her for a moment, her long, lean body propped up against the house, the toe of one sneaker digging into the dirt. His heart ached for a beat, the feelings he had for her overwhelming him for just a moment.

_ Fuck, I love you. _

“Sam, quit creeping in the shadows,” she said curtly. “Either come over here or go away.”

Her tone was harsh, but he didn’t take it personally.  _ She _ was kind of harsh in general, but he knew that this time the harshness wasn’t directed at him. The case had been rough for her. She had connected, somehow, to Isabel, and watching her die had been hard on Chrys.

He came to lean against the house next to her, sensing that touch wouldn’t be welcomed. “How are you holding up?”

“Like shit,” she responded immediately, drawing a smile from him. She sighed and dropped the cigarette butt, then crushed it with her sneaker. “But I’ll be all right.”

“Anything I can do?”

She turned to look at him, and he was surprised to see tears in her eyes. “No,” she whispered. “I’m just… God dammit, I wanted to save her so  _ fucking _ bad, Sam.”

He reached over and laced his fingers through hers. She gripped his hand tight and looked forward. “I just… I forgot,” she said softly. “I forgot that you can’t save everyone. With the Arache thing, it was about you, I wasn’t thinking about them. The civilians. And now…” She heaved another sigh. “I just forgot that not everyone lives.”

He drew her into him then, unable to stand against the pain in her voice. He buried his face in her hair and breathed her in deeply, wrapping his arms around her. He was grateful when she let him, then pressed her face into his neck. “It’ll be all right, beautiful,” he murmured. “We’ll be all right.”

“Whatever you say, Sammy.” 

She didn’t sound like she believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	41. Whatever You Need

The next morning, Chrys was scanning the newspaper for cases with a cup of coffee in her hand. The boys were eating breakfast at the table with her, each making appreciative noises.  _ You’d think they’d never had waffles before. _

A shrill ringing floated through the air, but it wasn’t her cell phone, so Chrys ignored it and took a sip of coffee.

“Someone gonna answer that?” Dean asked testily around a mouthful of food.

Bobby shrugged. “Ain’t one of mine.”

Sam looked at her. “Chrys, is it your second phone?”

She looked up at him for a moment, then lunged out of her chair and ran to rummage through her bag, on the floor where she’d left it the night before. The ringing stopped, and she muttered “Fuck!” before finding the little silver phone. She opened it, hit the dial back button, and waited.

“Green Lake Psychiatric Hospital, this is Kelly, how may I help you?”

“Kelly, it’s Chrys Summers. I just missed your call.”

There was a beat of silence. “Let me go get Dr. Cook, Ms. Summers.”

The formality, from a woman that Chrys had known for several years and has even gotten Christmas cards from, sent chills up and down Chrys’s body. She waited anxiously, chewing on her lip.

Warmth behind her had her leaning back into Sam’s chest, relying on his strength. He wrapped his big arms around her and let his chin rest gently against her temple, offering much needed comfort.

“Chrys?”

“Dr. Cook, yeah, sorry I missed you. What’s going on?”

“Chrys… It’s Grace.”

Ice formed in Chrys’s heart. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“You need to come as soon as possible.”

***

Sam borrowed one of Bobby’s old, beat up cars, and they were on the road less than twenty minutes after Chrys received the call.

She was in the passenger seat, looking out the window, arms wrapped around herself. Sam wanted to help, he just didn’t know how. He had lost a parent, of course, both of them, but Chrys’s situation was different. Just like all of Chrys’s situations were different.

She had been closed off and quiet since they’d left, and it was worrying him. Chrys wasn’t great with emotions in the best case scenario, and the way she’d shut down while she was on the call had made him even more concerned.

_ Should I say something? What the hell would I even say? Will she get mad? Well, one of two things will happen. She’ll be grateful, which is less likely, or she’ll crush my trachea like an egg and leave me dead on the side of the road. _

“Sam, it’s okay,” she said softly.

“Is… Is there anything I can do to help?”

She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t think there’s anything  _ anyone _ can do. Doc just told me that I need to get there as fast as I can.”

Without thinking about it, Sam corrected her. “We.”

She frowned and finally looked at him. “We? Huh?”

He glanced at her, then back at the road. He was nervous all of the sudden, and halfway wished he hadn’t said anything. He shifted uncomfortably as he spoke.  _ “We _ need to get there as fast as  _ we _ can.”

She blinked. “Um…”

He smiled a little.  _ She’s dense sometimes. _ “Chrys, when I was standing outside that building in Detroit, getting ready to go in and meet Lucifer, you said, ‘we’re in this together.’” He looked over at her. “It goes both ways, and not just for the supernatural stuff, Chrys.” He reached over and took her hand. “We’re in this together, okay?”

Her blue eyes were dry when she looked at him, but there was a storm in them that let him know she wasn’t unaffected. “Okay, Sammy,” she said softly, threading her fingers through his slowly. “We’re… In this together.”

“And we’ll get through it.”

She nodded and swallowed hard. “And… We’ll get through it.”

***

“I can’t do this.”

Chrys gripped Sam’s hand hard, and she knew she was breathing too fast and her eyes were too wide as she stared at the psychiatric hospital, but she couldn’t seem to help it. Fear was making her heart beat loudly and her limbs unwilling to move, other than to squeeze Sam’s hand.

His thumb was running along her skin in a gesture that was probably supposed to be comforting, but wasn’t nearly enough. “Yes, you can,” he said gently.

She shook her head. “No, I can’t. Sam, what… What am I supposed to  _ say?” _

_ My mother is dying. _ It was something Chrys had known was coming. It would even be a blessing for her poor mother, who deserved some rest, who deserved heaven after everything she’d been through. The peace she’d find in death was a good thing.

However, though the woman hadn’t been in her right mind for almost five years now, the thought of her dying scared the shit out of Chrys.  _ I won’t have my mother anymore. I’ll be an orphan. _

Sam squeezed her hand, and she looked at him, wrestling with the panic rising in her chest. “Chrys, you can do this,” he insisted. “I’ll be right there, or I can wait outside, wherever you need me. But you’re strong, you’ve got this.”

His words calmed her enough that she could force her breathing to even out, and she felt herself nodding. “With me,” she whispered. “I want you with me.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Whatever you need, beautiful.”

***

She stalled again outside of her mother’s room.   
  
A sympathetic nurse,  _ not _ Kelly, had led them here, and Chrys’s brain had turned off again. She was just staring at the little plaque with her mother’s name on it, unable to move forward, unwilling to just run away.   
  
Sam’s huge hand on her arm gently turned her to face him. She eagerly let herself get a little lost in his hazel eyes. She didn’t really have to think about anything if she was gazing into Sam’s eyes.   
  
He cupped her face. “Chrys, we have to go in there eventually.”   
  
She felt her heart start to beat faster as panic thrummed through her veins. “What am I supposed to  _ say?” _ she whispered desperately. “She’s not even in there, not really. But I feel like… I mean, I should say  _ something, _ right? I don’t-“   
  
He pulled her into his arms, and she cuddled into his warm, firm chest. She felt his lips on her hair, and her heart fluttered despite the situation.   
  
“You just go in there and tell her what you need her to know. Even if she doesn’t… Acknowledge you, she’ll hear you. She’s in there somewhere, and she’ll hear you, beautiful.”   
  
She smiled a little against him. “That’s some corny ass shit, Sam.”   
  
She felt him shake his head. “Not really. I just honestly can’t imagine being so far gone that I wouldn’t hear you.”   
  
The words were so honest, with sincerity soaking every syllable, that she couldn’t think of a snarky comeback. So she just breathed him in for a while, letting his scent fill her head and relax her. He held her patiently, never pushing her one way or another, letting her process.   
  
“Okay,” she said finally. “Let’s go.”   
  
***   
  
Grace was in a hospital bed, her frail limbs dwarfed by the blanket covering them, and by the tubes and monitors hooked up to her. She was pale, but some kind soul had taken the time to brush and braid her thick hair, so she just looked like she was sleeping, not like she was dead.   
  
Chrys sat in the chair next to the bed and leaned forward to take Grace’s cold hand. “Hi, Mama,” she said gently, trying to rub warmth into her mother.   
  
Grace’s eyes fluttered open, and Chrys’s heart thumped in her chest for a moment.  _ Maybe… _   
  
But her mother’s eyes stayed focused on the ceiling, empty and startlingly blue, and Chrys knew that most of her mother was already gone. It had been for a long, long time.   
  
“Mama, I’m…” Her words dried up, and she was suddenly petrified that she wouldn’t be able to say anything at this, the last moment she’d have the chance to.  _ Oh, God. _   
  
Sam’s hands landed gently on her shoulders, and Chrys was suddenly overflowing with words.   
  
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, tears finally gathering in her eyes. “I’m so sorry for what they did to you. You didn’t deserve it, and neither did Daddy, and I’m so sorry.”   
  
She took in a deep, shuddering breath. “And I forgive you. I’m sorry I haven’t told you that before, but I forgive you. For the mental wards, the tests, the hospitals, I forgive you for all of it. You had no idea, you did what any parent would do in that situation. And… I guess I understand why you never believed me, because who would? So, for all of it, I forgive you. And I love you.”   
  
She stood, smoothed her mother’s long bangs from her forehead, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I love you, and it’s okay. Go find Daddy, go be happy, Mama.”   
  
Chrys straightened up and reached back to take Sam’s hand as the monitors started to go crazy.

***   
  
Grace Summers died that day, a few minutes after her daughter said goodbye. There was no faint hand squeeze of acknowledgement. Her mother’s eyes didn’t suddenly clear. Grace didn’t wake up and apologize, or tell Chrys she loved her, or say anything at all. She simply died, and Chrys had to hope she’d heard some of what Chrys had said.   
  
***   
  
“I don’t want to do this.”   
  
“I know, Chrys, but who else is going to?”   
  
Chrys sighed and rubbed her forehead hard to stave off the headache starting there. “Literally  _ anyone _ else?”   
  
Sam pressed a kiss to her temple and she leaned into his warmth. “She couldn’t have had that much, beautiful. It shouldn’t take very long.”   
  
She turned and pressed her face into his neck. “I don’t want to stay the night in this fucking town,” she whispered.   
  
His arm came around her and he held her close. “Deal. We can do this, then we’ll hit the road.”   
  
The hospital had requested that Chrys go through Grace’s meager belongings and tell them what to do with them. Chrys had been tempted to tell them to donate everything sight unseen. Sam had protested, telling her there might be something important in there.   
  
Now they were standing in one of the free rooms in the hospital, and Chrys couldn’t help staring at the box with her mother’s things in it like it was full of snakes instead.   
  
She heaved a sigh and stepped forward. She was irritated to see that her hand was shaking as she opened the box, but she didn’t say anything about it. It wasn’t like she could stop it, anyway.   
  
“I’m nervous,” she said with a soft laugh. “How stupid is that?”   
  
He was standing behind her, his hands on her hips. “It’s not,” he said softly. “I get it, I’d be scared, too.”   
  
Taking in a deep inhale, she leaned forward to look into the box.   
  
The first thing she found was her mother’s shawl. It was thick and silky, covered in a bright floral pattern. It immediately brought tears to Chrys’s eyes, remembering her mother dancing, or lecturing, or reassuring her with that same shawl wrapped around her shoulders. “This is older than I am.” She folded it carefully and put it next to the box, silently dubbing it the “keep” pile, though she hadn’t expected to need one of those.   
  
There were some books of Grace’s, several about women’s rights, and one trashy romance novel that Chrys was certain her mother would have rather burned than have found. There were some miscellaneous clothes, some identification and paperwork that was mostly outdated, and some postcards at the bottom of the box.   
  
Chrys smiled through her tears as she read through them, holding them so Sam could read over her shoulder. They were from her father to her mother, from when he’d been away for work, or when he’d been travelling in college. They were sweet, and goofy, and they personified David Summers.   
  
“He was… A huge nerd,” she said softly. “He was completely, wildly in love with her, and with me, and he never had a problem showing it. He was so… Open. She was never like that, she was harder.” She laughed a little. “Probably where I get it from.”   
  
He squeezed her lightly and she leaned back into him, again relying on his strength. She flipped to what she thought would be the last postcard, and felt the blood drain from her face when it was a picture, instead.   
  
It showed Grace, smiling just a little, her arm around Chrys’s waist. Chrys was laughing, and she appeared carefree, but she could see the hospital bracelet on her teenage self’s wrist, almost obscured by her sweater. Her father was doing some sort of ridiculous dance, trying to get them to smile.   
  
Chrys had no idea who had taken the picture, or why her mother had kept it when Grace was so clearly irritated in the image. But the sight of them, being a family for just a moment, completely broke down the rest of Chrys’s carefully constructed walls. Her chest heaved, and she covered her mouth with her hand, not taking her eyes off of the photo. Sam’s arms came around her waist, and his mouth was at her temple again, murmuring soothing nonsense and kissing the spot gently.   
  
They stayed like that for a long time.   
  
***   
  
Chrys kept the postcards, the photo, and her mother’s shawl. She made very basic arrangements for the body, paid for them, and left without looking back. It was almost midnight when they finally left.   
  
“We can go get a motel room,” she said softly. “It’s too late to drive back.”   
  
To her surprise, Sam shook his head resolutely. “We can go back, there’s no way we’re staying here tonight.” He smiled. “I’m all right to drive, let’s go home.”   
  
She just stared at him for a moment, then let a smile cross her lips. “Whatever you say, softie.”   
  
***   
  
Sam ran his fingers through Chrys’s hair as she slept. Her face was pressed to his lower belly, her head resting on his thigh, and her hair was spread out across his leg and knee. She was truly beautiful, swollen eyes and exhausted face included.   
  
He was incredibly proud of her. The situation she’d faced that day was difficult for anyone, and especially difficult for her. But instead of running away from it, she’d tackled it head on, even if he did have to encourage her a little at a couple of points. He wasn’t sure the woman he’d met two years ago would have been able to do that, but maybe he was underestimating her. Sam felt like he was consistently underestimating how strong, smart, or resilient Chrys was.   
  
But for now, three hours into their six hour drive, he just ran his fingers through her hair and loved her for all he was worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	42. Tighten Up

Chrys was trying to research the “Eve-Mother-of-All-Evil” thing while lounging on the couch when Sam walked in. She looked up and smiled as he lifted her legs, quickly sat beneath them, and let them fall over his lap again. “Where’s Bobby?” he asked, stroking her knee.

“In town,” Dean said without looking up. “Supply run.”

Sam frowned. “In this?” It was storming like crazy. The rain hitting the window behind the couch was almost too loud to be heard over.

Dean looked up and grinned. “Yeah, man’s a hero. We were officially out of hunter’s helper.” He gestured to the empty whiskey bottle.

Chrys rolled her eyes. “Like you needed more booze.”

Before Dean could retort, someone appeared in the middle of the room with a fluttering of wings.

Chrys jumped and swore, glaring at the lanky blonde man. He just smiled at her. “Hello darlings.” He began to move towards Bobby’s desk. “You’ve seen ‘The Godfather,’ right?”

“Balthazar,” Dean snarled.

The man ignored him. “You know, the end, where Michael Corleone sends his men to kill his enemies in one big, bloody swoop?” He pulled a container of salt and a bowl out of one of Bobby’s desk drawers.

“Hey!” Dean snapped as Balthazar began pouring the salt into the bowl.

Balthazar looked closely at the salt. “’Dead Sea Brine.’ Good, good, good.” He looked up at Dean. “You know, Moe Greene gets it in the eye, and Don Cuneo gets it in the revolving door?”

“What’s going on here?” Chrys asked casually, expecting to be ignored.

She was. “I said hey!” Dean insisted.

Balthazar nodded. “You did. Twice, Good for you.” He looked around. “Blood of lamb. Blood of lamb.” He flitted over to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Let’s see. Beer, cold pizza. Blood of lamb. Yes! Blood of lamb!”

Chrys stood and watched the man come back into the living room. “Any reason you’re talking about ‘The Godfather?’”

He looked up at her. “Because we’re in it. Right now.  _ Tonight. _ And in the role of Michael Corleone, the archangel Raphael.”

Chrys’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re an angel.”

Dean was scowling. “You mind telling us what you mean?”

Balthazar, however, ignored both of them again. “No, no, no, no! No, no, no, no!” He opened another desk drawer and sagged with relief. “Yes. Bone of a lesser saint. This vertebra will do very nicely.” He looked up at them. “Your Mr. Singer does keep a beautiful pantry.”

“Wait,” Sam said, “Raphael is after you?”

Balthazar scoffed. “Raphael is after us all. You see, he’s consolidated his strength. And now he’s on the move.”

Chrys frowned. “And where’s Cass?”

“Cassie? He’s deep, deep underground. So good old Raffy put out a hit on every last Samaritan who helped our dear Cass, including the three of you. And,  _ so _ much more importantly,  _ me. _ You see, he wants to draw Cass out into the open.”

Sam crossed his arms and came to stand next to Chrys. “And you expect us to just believe you?”

The angel shrugged. “Or don’t. You’ll go where I throw you either way.”

“What’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?” Dean snapped. Chrys was angry, too, but fear was also making her belly tight.  _ Fucking angels. _

“That’s all the time we have, darlings,” Balthazar said instead of answering. He walked to the window, opened his jacket, and stuck his finger in the blood spreading from his side.

“Jesus,” Chrys breathed. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Oh, garish, I know.” He spoke casually, like he wasn’t bleeding out, or like he wasn’t drawing a symbol on the window in said blood. “You see, uncle Raffy sent one of his nastiest to handle me. I’m flattered, actually. And down a lung at the moment, but that’s all right.”

He turned, dug into his jacket pocket, and handed Sam a key. “Here’s for you.”

Sam looked down at it and frowned. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Run with it.”

Before anyone could respond, Balthazar was thrown across the room. Another angel had appeared. Balthazar stood and transported himself to stand between the angel and the humans. “Virgil,” he said, nodding respectfully. He turned to look at Sam, Chrys, and Dean. “I said  _ run!” _ He shoved them through the window.

Chrys closed her eyes and cursed herself for wearing a tank top, just knowing that she was about to be cut to ribbons. So she was surprised when they landed on a mattress.

“Cut!”

She blinked and started to get to her feet. Sam put his arm around her to help, and she looked around wide-eyed at what looked like… A  _ television crew? _

One of the people pointed at Dean. “Real good, solid fall. Way to go.”

The man who’d yelled cut was giving them a thumbs-up. “Jared, Jensen! Outstanding! That was just great! And, uh… You, too!” He said to Chrys.

She was scowling. “What?”

Someone came and bustled them away from the window. Sam was scanning the crowd, as was Dean. “So… No angels?”

“No angels… I think.”

“Should we be killing anybody?” Chrys asked.

“I don’t think so,” Dean said, looking around with a frown.

Sam put a hand on the small of Chrys’s back, but a crewmember side-eyed them. “Guys, no getting handsy with the extras,” she said out of the side of her mouth, then walked away.

Sam frowned, but let his hand drop. “What?”

_ “Extra?” _ Chrys asked. “I’m an extra? What the hell is going on here?”

***

Sam was watching Chrys lean against the wall of “Jensen’s” trailer and laugh uncontrollably. She was finding the whole “Jensen and Jared” thing very amusing.

He couldn’t help the way he was smiling at the sight of her. She’d been kind of quiet since her mother had passed, so he was grateful to see her smiling again. “Well, who puts a three hundred gallon aquarium in their trailer, anyway?”

Dean shrugged. “Apparently, Jensen Ackles. And stuff it, Summers.”

She laughed again, and despite the weirdness of their situation, Sam’s heart felt lighter for it. He looked around and spotted a laptop. “Ah, all right. Let’s see who this guy is.”

Chrys came to sit next to him, still chuckling as he pulled up a search for Jensen Ackles. Dean was on the other side of the room, looking at “his” trailer. “Well, he’s not a hunter, but he plays one on TV. Oh!” Sam looked up to see Dean holding a magazine, featuring the two of them on the cover. “Look at these male-modelin’ sons of bitches. Nice ‘blue steel,’ Sam.”

Chrys tossed her head back and laughed again. “Apparently, it’s our job,” Sam said defensively, looking warily at the magazine cover. He looked back down at the computer screen. “Okay, here goes. It says you’re from Texas.”

Dean straightened. “Really?”

“Oh. My.  _ God,” _ Chrys gasped, her delighted blue eyes on the screen. “It says you were in a  _ soap opera!” _

“What?” Dean snapped as Chrys collapsed in another fit of laughter.

Sam grinned down at her and hit “play” on the video.

“If I didn’t have cancer, and I wasn’t married, and I had plenty of money… Would you, would you want to run away with me?”

“Money?” Dean, or rather “Jensen,” snapped on the screen. “What, you think I really care about  _ money, _ Nicole? I care that you’re healthy.”

“Well, I’m no quitter, Eric. I, I-“

Dean slammed the laptop shut and glared at the two of them. Sam managed to keep his composure, but Chrys was close to falling off of the couch she was laughing so hard.

Dean pointed at her. “I’m not afraid to hit a woman, Summers, so tighten up,” he threatened harmlessly. More gales of laughter from Chrys, so Dean looked at Sam. “I don’t like this universe, Sammy. We need to get out of here.”

Sobering a little, Sam nodded. “No argument here. But I don’t think our prayers are reaching Cass. The real Cass.”

Dean nodded. “I agree, I think we’re out of soul-phone range. But if we can reverse Balthazar’s spell…” He moved over to the coffee table and flipped a sheet of paper over to begin sketching. “I watched every move. We just, uh, get the ingredients, right, get back to that same window and… There’s no place like home.”

***

Sam was wide-eyed as they got dropped off at the “Padalecki” mansion. “Holy shit.”

Chrys and Dean snorted simultaneously, and he shot her a wink. “Nice modest digs, Jay-Z.”

Sam shrugged. “I guess I’m the star.”

As they walked inside, Dean pointed to a tanning bed in the house. “Yeah, right. Check it out.”

Chrys was chuckling again. “What are you, Dracula?”

“George Hamilton Dracula,” Dean snarked, and the two of them fist-bumped.

Sam gave the two of them the stink-eye and looked around. Dean went to the liquor cabinet. “Oh, now we’re talking.”

Chrys was looking out the window. “Sam, you have a camel in your backyard.”

“It’s an alpaca,” a cold, familiar voice said. “And who the  _ hell _ are you?”

Sam turned, his eyes wide again, as Ruby walked down the stairs. She was glaring daggers at Chrys, whose face had become impassive.

_ “Ruby?” _ Dean asked, horrified.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “’Ruby.’ Right. That one never gets old.” She walked up to Sam and smiled warmly, which was an expression he’d never actually seen on her face. “How was work today, hon?”

She came up on tiptoe and kissed him hard, and he responded, but his eyes shot to Chrys. Her face could have been carved from stone, but she cocked an eyebrow at the display. Sam felt himself blush, and he pulled away from the woman in front of him just a little.

She didn’t seem to notice. Even if she did, Dean spoke before she could.

“Wait. You and  _ Ruby?” _

She turned to glare at him. “Do you honestly think that’s funny, Jensen?”

“Of course he doesn’t,  _ Genevieve.” _ Chrys said with a smile. “I mean, of course it’s not. You’re Jared’s  _ wife.” _

Dean swiveled to glare at Sam. “You married fake Ruby?”

Chrys punched him on the arm, hard enough that Sam winced from just hearing it. “The guys just wanted to run lines, Gen. Jensen actually insisted on it being here.”

Gen gave Dean a deadpan stare. “You’ve never even been to our house.”

Dean gave her a winning smile. “Well, now that I know that there’s an alpaca here, I’m definitely coming back.”

“Well, alpacas  _ are _ the greenest animal.”

***

Chrys was watching Sam and Dean incredulously as they tried to act.  _ They’re hopeless. They’re morons. They’re going to blow our damn cover. _

They were absolutely  _ dreadful. _ They were stiff, they were speaking strangely, and what the  _ fuck _ was Sam doing with his arms? “Jesus Christ,” she muttered.

“What happened?” she turned to see a man in a headset standing next to her, looking distressed. “What happened to them?”

“Probably just a long night,” she lied smoothly. “You know, at least they’re talking again.”

Lying in this world was too easy. People weren’t suspicious, didn’t ask for credentials. As far as Chrys could tell, there was  _ no _ counterpart for her in this universe. But she’d just walked on set and people had assumed she’d belonged there.

_ If you were willing to look past the morality of it, you could make a killing by being a criminal in this world. _

“We need to get all three of that crap.”

Chrys actually, physically winced as Dean delivered the line.  _ Hopeless, both of them. _

“Cut!” The director shouted. “Cut! Cut! Cut!”

Chrys strode up to him, put a kind smile on her face, put a hand on his arm, and relied on what over twenty-five years of smiling at older men had taught her.

True to form, he relaxed. “Bob,” she said soothingly, “Let me talk to the guys. Between you and I, I think something shady’s going on.” the last part she whispered and leaned in for, and he mirrored her unconsciously.

“It’s like they’ve lost any shred of talent they ever had,” he said desperately.

She nodded sympathetically. “I know, I know. Give me five minutes, okay?”

He sighed. “All right.” He looked at the crowd. “Take five, everyone!”

Chrys walked over to Sam and Dean, where they were assembling the pieces of the spell they’d gathered the night before. “Winchesters,” she snapped. “This way.”

Sam frowned. “What? Chrys, we don’t-“

“Come on, Sam,” Dean said, grabbing Sam’s arm and dragging him along as they followed Chrys. She shot him a grateful smile and they walked out of the building.

“What’s up, Summers?” Dean asked when they were there.

“Look, the spell isn’t going to work.”

Sam frowned. “What?”

“I was up all night last night at that motel, looking online. There’s no sign that the apocalypse happened here. Ever. As far as I can tell, monsters, ghosts, demons, they’re all pretend.”

Dean was staring at her. “So no one’s hunting them?”

“No one has to. Look, I think there’s no supernatural here. No magic.”

“No demons, no hell, no heaven, no, no  _ God?” _ Dean was struggling.

Sam, however, had realization dawning on his face. “Even better. No angels.”

***

“You know that if we drop Virgil, get the key, this might be it. We might be stuck here.”

Chrys shuddered at the thought. As it turned out, Virgil  _ had _ made it to this reality. He was just as powerless as they were, but he had made it. He had killed Misha, the actor who played Cass. Chrys didn’t care overmuch about the guy, but she was irritated that Virgil seemed to have a damn plan, and they were clueless.

Sam was shaking his head. “No. We’ll figure out a way back.”

“You don’t wanna stay here?” Chrys asked softly, tilting her head to look at her lover. “I mean, you’re a bazillionaire, you’re married to that hottie Ruby, it’s the whole package.”

He shook his head and looped an arm around her waist. “No way, Chrys. Dean was right, we don’t mean the same thing here. He and I aren’t brothers, and you don’t even  _ exist.” _ He shook his head. “No, we’re going.”

***

Virgil had come, shot several crew members, and had been pushed aside as the three of them had jumped into the portal that Raphael had opened.

Chrys’s eyes were wide as she stared at the archangel, and she struggled to keep her cool. He was the first one she’d encountered since the apocalypse, and the power coming off of him was overwhelming.

Well, coming off of  _ her, _ as his current vessel was a woman.

“Raphael?” Dean asked. “Nice meatsuit. Dude looks like a lady.”

Raphael squeezed her fist, and vicious pain bloomed in Chrys’s stomach. She gasped and doubled over, struggling to breathe around it. She felt Sam’s hand blindly groping for hers, and she took it, holding him hard.

She heard Raphael speaking, and Balthazar was there, too. but the pain was still in her belly, and she couldn’t focus on anything but that.

Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the agony vanished, and Cass was speaking as Chrys, Sam, and Dean were able to stand.

“Step away from him, Raphael.” When she looked up, her eyes widened at the sight of Castiel. He was standing tall, proud, every inch a commander of heaven. “I have the weapons now. Their power is with me.”

“Castiel,” Raphael snarled.

Cass didn’t back down. “If you don’t want to die tonight, back off.”

Raphael stared at him hard for a moment, then disappeared.

“Well, Cass,” Balthazar said airily, “Now that you have your sword, try not to die by it.” He disappeared, too.

***

Castiel brought them back to Bobby’s house. Chrys bit her tongue, trying not to let her ire at the angel take her mouth over.

She was still irritated at Castiel. More accurately, she was  _ furious _ with him for suggesting that she and Dean had wanted Sam dead, that it was a fair price to pay for what they’d gotten. What Chrys had gotten had been a year and a half of hardship, and a year of taking advantage of a kind, loving woman who deserved better. Castiel could go fuck himself, as far as Chrys was concerned.

Sam, apparently, was irritated, too. “What the hell, Cass? You were using us as a diversion?”

“It was Balthazar’s plan. I would have done the same thing.”

“Well, that’s less than comforting,” Chrys said thoughtfully.

“When will I be able to make you people understand?” Cass snapped. “If I lose against Raphael, we all lose.  _ Everything.” _

“Yeah, Cass. We know the stakes. That’s about all you’ve told us!” Dean exclaimed.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Castiel said softly. He sounded sincere enough. “I’ll explain when I can.” He disappeared.

“Fucking angels,” Chrys said venomously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I am SO sorry this update took so long. This was a busy week for me. I don't know if anyone cares about the particulars, but I got my first tattoo last week (yay! and ow!), and also last week, a two week old puppy came into my care. She's very healthy and doing well, but her sister came to me a few days later, and she's extremely small and sick. They require round-the-clock care, so I've been pretty out of it. But they're doing a lot better! I've got some experienced in neonatal care for pets, so I think they're gonna be fine. :) Thanks for sticking with me, beautiful readers!  
> **I'm sorry if it didn't seem like my heart was in this chapter. I don't love S6 and S7, so it's hard for me to get into it.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	43. I'm a Little Trigger Happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an obnoxiously long author's note at the end... Feel free to ignore, it's mostly rambling, lol.

Sam just waited Chrys out while they went to bed that night. He knew something was on her mind, and she would talk when she was ready. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching him silently as he pulled on a shirt after a shower.

“So you really had no urge to stay?”

He turned and raised his eyebrows. “What?”

She tilted her head at him, and the way her hair spilled across her shoulder entranced him. It probably always would. “Did you mean it? When you said that you didn’t want to stay in that… Alternate universe, or whatever it is?”

He came to sit next to her on the bed. He didn’t touch her, just looked over at her. “No, I wouldn’t have stayed there.”

“Why?”

He really thought about it for a few moments, then shook his head. “I mean, what I said was true. We don’t mean the same thing there, and Dean and I aren’t even related.”

She nodded and leaned against him to rest her head on his shoulder. “Okay,” she said softly.

He smiled a little. “And you aren’t there.”

As he expected, she leaned back and rolled her eyes. “Kiss ass.”

He grinned and looped an arm around her to pull her close. “Yeah, but I’m serious, beautiful.” She looked at him, leaning as far away as she could with his arm around her, an eyebrow cocked. He gave her a winning smile, and she huffed.

He brought his other hand up to cup her face and he sobered. “Chrys, I’m not kidding. Even if everything else had been the same, if you hadn’t been there, I would  _ never _ have stayed. Not without you.”

Her blue eyes widened as she stared at him. “Sam, I was just teasing.”

He smiled a little. “I wasn’t.”

Her face softened, and she leaned forward to press her lips to his. “I know,” she said softly against his mouth. “I know, I’m just being bitchy.”

He moved down to nuzzle her neck. “I like the bitchy.”

She tilted her head to the side to give him more room, making the deep, possessive part of him damn near purr in satisfaction. “That’s because you’re maladjusted, Sammy.”

He used his natural speed to catch her off-guard. He picked her up, tossed her down onto the bed and pinned her there with his weight. She automatically pulled her legs from beneath him and wrapped them around his waist as he nipped at her neck lightly. “I’ll show you maladjusted,” he muttered darkly.

He felt her smile. “Well then, get to it.”

***

Chrys was frowning as they walked back to Bobby’s car. They were working a case where several men who worked at a cannery had gone on what could only be called murder sprees, then claimed to have no memory of it. They were on their way to the warehouse now to investigate.

She was irritated because she and Sam had been cut short that morning, so her skin felt too tight, and she was too aware of the way her stupid fed suit rubbed against her.  _ Maybe I should rethink my stance on underwear. _

She was also irritated because there was a man she’d never seen before standing next to Bobby.

“I don’t even know why you  _ have _ a driver’s license,” the newcomer was saying.

Dean grinned. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.” He hugged the man.

Sam did the same, clapping the older man on the back. “It really  _ is _ good to see you, Rufus.”

Rufus saw Chrys and whistled low. “I don’t believe that for a second, not if you’ve got this gorgeous creature hanging out with you three miserable cusses.”

Chrys smiled slowly. “You know, I like you, Rufus.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bobby growled. “Why don’t you two get a room?” Chrys laughed, and she felt warmth spread through her as Sam wrapped his arm around her.

Dean was smiling. “All right. We all pack a snack?” When everyone nodded, he started toward the cannery. “Then let’s see what we can see.”

Chrys pulled the big shotgun out of the trunk, slammed it shut, and followed the men into the building. Pistols were more practical, but the shotgun spoke to the dramatic part of her soul.

They walked in and scanned the room. It was quiet and somehow echoey at the same time, in the way that big industrial buildings often were.

When a door opened Chrys swung around to see a pretty, short woman walk in. Her eyes met Dean’s with surprise.

Dean tensed. “Gwen?”

Gwen nodded. “Dean.”

An older bald man came in behind her. Dean raised his gun at him and began walking forward. Chrys walked around Bobby and Rufus to back him up.

“Welcome to next time,” Dean snarled.

Sam caught him and lowered his gun arm. “No, no, no, no! Hold on!”

“I said I’d kill him!”

Chrys nodded, came to stand next to them, and raised her own gun. “Good enough for me.”

“Chrys,” Sam snapped. “Not helping.”

“Didn’t mean to.”

“I take it you all know each other,” Rufus said dryly.

“He’s our grandfather.”

Chrys raised her eyebrows and let fury wash through her. “Your  _ grandfather?” _ She had heard quite a bit about Samuel, so she kept her gun raised and cocked it. “This is, indeed, next time, then.”

_ “Chrys!” _

A hand on her shoulder had her turning to look at Bobby, who was staring at Samuel evenly. “Down, girl,” he muttered softly, and she lowered her weapon. She tended to listen when Bobby spoke. “What are you doing here?” he asked Samuel.

“We’re working. You?”

“None of your damn business!” Dean shouted. Chrys nodded.

“Sam,” Bobby said softly. “Take Dean for a walk.”

“Why doesn’t Chrys have to go?” Dean sputtered.

“Go.” Bobby’s tone brooked no argument, and Sam dragged him out.

Chrys stared Samuel down when he met her eyes. Dean had told her  _ exactly _ what had happened in that warehouse, when Samuel had left her best friend and her soulmate to die at the hands of ghouls. Sam may have been able to forgive his grandfather, but Chrys held her grudges close to her heart, and was usually unwilling to let them go.

“So,” Bobby began. “You’re Samuel.”

Samuel smirked. “You must be the guy pretending to be their father.”

Chrys raised her gun again. “You’re gonna wanna watch your mouth,” she said softly, coolly. “I’m a little trigger happy, and I don’t take pot shots at Bobby very well.”

Sam was walking back in. He put a hand on the small of Chrys’s back, then took his other hand and gently lowered the gun. She let him, but only because if she wanted to, she could have shot his grandfather before Sam could have stopped her.

“You’re looking well, Sam.” Samuel’s little nod made Chrys see red a little.  _ I may have anger issues. _

“Save the small talk, all right?” Sam snapped.  _ Well, at least he has them, too. _

“You seem different.”

“I got my soul back,” Sam said coldly. “No thanks to you, I hear.”

“You hear?” Samuel scoffed. “You don’t remember.”

“He remembers enough,” Chrys growled, still  _ very _ willing to shoot him.

“I, uh, really hate to break up this little circle of love,” Rufus said firmly. “But why don’t we talk shop, huh? How about you tell us what it is you’re hunting?”

“A creature from Purgatory,” Samuel supplied reluctantly. “She calls herself Eve.”

“Eve?”

“Yeah. They call her ‘mother.’ She was here about ten thousand years ago. Every freak that walks the face of the earth can be traced back to her. And she’s back.”

“How the hell do you know all that?” Chrys asked hotly.

The smug look on his face had her grip tightening on her gun again.  _ Yep, definitely anger issues. _ “You don’t know  _ half _ the things that I know, girl.”

“I know that you’d throw your family to ghouls. I think I know just enough, thanks,” she spit.

Gwen, silent until then, turned to look at Samuel. “You  _ what?” _

He didn’t even spare her a glance. “They lied to her.”

Chrys met Gwen’s eyes. “Why don’t you go ask Dean what he did?”

She left the room, and Chrys looked over at Samuel. “Be very careful about how you conduct yourself. I’m a lot meaner than these boys.” When he snorted, she smiled coolly. “Go ahead and test it. I wouldn’t mind putting a bullet in you in the least.”

Before he could reply, there was a gunshot from where Dean and Gwen had been talking just outside the room. When they got there, Gwen was dead, and Dean was gone.

***

Bobby and Rufus were trying to call on their contacts to find out what they were facing. Chrys stood just behind Sam and Dean, waiting for their grandfather to come out of the bathroom.

When he did, he sighed as he saw them. “What?”

Dean shrugged. “Nothing. I’m just wondering how you sleep at night.”

“Like a baby,” Samuel replied with a tight smile. “Thanks for asking.”

“You fed us to Crowley,” Dean snarled.

Samuel nodded. “True, but what am I gonna do about it now? Do I blame you for wanting to kill me? Of course not, Dean. What I did was…” He shook his head. “But I'm not apologizing. I did what I did. I don't cry over spilled blood.” Chrys snorted.

“So,” Sam said incredulously. “You really  _ can _ just go on, like…”

Samuel advanced on Sam. “Just because you're Dr. Jekyll at the moment doesn't mean you can get all high and mighty. Don't forget, we spent a year together.”

Chrys pushed Sam aside and stood in front of the brothers. “I am just about done with your attitude, Campbell,” she snapped.

“Yeah? What do you plan on doing about it?”

“Well, killing you was at the top of the list,” she said cheerfully. Before she could say anything else, however, she saw the goo coming from Samuel’s ear.

She flung her arms out to her sides and shoved the brothers back as Samuel pulled his gun. She jumped a little and kicked it out of his hand as he fired. The shot missed, and he shoved them aside and ran away.

“Shit!”

“Chrys, are you all right?” Sam asked, concern clouding his hazel eyes.

“Hey!” Bobby and Rufus ran in. “I heard a shot.”

“It’s Samuel!” Chrys snapped, angry with herself for not seeing it, and angry with Sam for… Well,  _ something, _ anyway.

“We’re going to be needing our guns back now, Bobby.”

***

They were searching for Samuel when Sam and Chrys got separated from the rest of the group. A huge door slid closed behind them.

Sam whirled and slammed his hand on the door. “Dean! Dean!”

There was banging on the other side of the door, too. “Sam! Chrys! Dammit!”

“Dean!” Chrys said loudly. “We’re going to go around, okay?”

“Be fucking careful! Got me, Summers?”

Sam saw her smile a little. “Yeah, yeah, softie, meet us there.”

They started walking, and Sam kept an eye on her out of the corner of his eye. His woman was angry and on occasion unpredictable, which was usually hot, but she had that gun in her hands, and it was making him nervous.

_ Not that the gun isn’t hot, _ he thought idly as they made their way down the hall.

Samuel came around the corner, knocking Sam out of his thoughts. He raised his pistol. “Don’t move.”

“Sam,” Samuel said. He looked over at Chrys. “And… I never got your name, did I?”

“You don’t need it,” Chrys said softly, danger soaking every syllable. “Put that gun down, Campbell.”

Samuel met Sam’s eyes. “What are you gonna do, son? You’re not gonna shoot me, you’re not gonna let her shoot me. Your own family?”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, I wouldn’t go with the family thing. Try again."

“Mary’s still my daughter,” Samuel said, taking a step closer.

“I said don’t move!”

“You’re still named after me.” Another step closer.

Chrys cocked her shotgun.

Samuel was smirking. “Appears to be our moment, Sam. You still want to know about your summer vacation? I'll tell you all about it. You're dying to know, huh?”

Sam shook his head. “Actually, I’m good. Made a promise to the lady.”

“Yeah?” Sam took another step forward. His last step.

Before Sam could even process the fact that he’d come closer, Chrys fired. Sam blinked, shocked, and turned to look at her.

Somehow, in her cold fury, she had become even more beautiful. She was tall and striking, her dark hair clouding around her face. Her jeans were tight, and the leather jacket she wore made her look hard and edgy. The (literally) smoking gun in her hands only added to the image.

She was lovely, and she was his.

***

“I got to say, I never figured Rufus for the religious type.”

They were standing at Rufus’ funeral. Chrys was quiet, letting the men reminisce around her. She’d known the man for just over an hour, she had no stories or memories to offer. So she stayed silent.

“So, what happened?” Sam asked. He kept an arm tight around Chrys, which was comforting. She’d been worried he would be angry with her about killing his grandfather, but so far he’d given no indication that he was.

“It was Omaha,” Bobby said somberly. “It was my fault, and he never let it go.”

“Well, he should have,” Dean said vehemently.

Bobby looked at him evenly, and the emotion in the older hunter’s eyes pinged at Chrys’s heart. “You don’t know what I did, Dean.”

Dean shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

Bobby was scowling. “What do you mean, it doesn't-”

“I  _ mean,” _ Dean interrupted, “at the end of the day, you two are family. Life's short, and ours are shorter than most. We're gonna spend it wringing our hands? Something's gonna get us eventually, and when my guts get ripped out,” he gestured to the rest of them, “just so you three know, we're good. Blanket apology for all the shit that anybody's done all the way around.”

Chrys smiled. “Some of us have pulled a lot of crap, Winchester.”

“Well, clean slate.”

They drank to that.

***

Sam watched Chrys get ready for bed that night, after the  _ very _ long day, and knew, again, that she had something on her mind. She didn’t want to talk to him about whatever it was, but there was something bothering her. So he’d wait her out again.

She smiled and crawled into bed next to him. She’d taken to wearing his t-shirts, making that possessive part of him purr. He wrapped her in his arms and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Long day,” he said against her skin.

She sighed and nodded. “It really was.” She looked up at him then, all big blue eyes and dark hair framing her pale face. “So, just so we’re clear. You’re not mad about me offing your grandfather?”

He thought about it, then shook his head. “No.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Like, at all? You’re not angry, at  _ all, _ that I shot him? This isn’t going to be one of those things you bitch at me about in the future?”

He chuckled. “I do not ‘bitch’ about anything, one, and two, no, it’s not.”

She just stared at him. “You’re really all right?  _ We’re _ really… All right?”

He cupped her face and kissed her gently. “Chrys, I don’t… I don’t know if I could have done it. And he would have killed us. You made the right call, did the right thing. No, I’m not mad.”

She cuddled closer, pressing her face into his neck. “Yes, you could have.”

“You think so?”

She nodded. “Because it was me. You would have killed him if you thought he was going to hurt me.”

He let that roll around in his head for a while, trying to figure out what to say. By the time he realized that she was right, he would probably put a bullet in  _ anyone _ who was going to hurt her, she was already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I'm so sorry for the delay in this chapter, guys. A week ago, I decided to take a break from writing and read a few new stories, to refresh myself, and as an exercise to improve my own work... And I promptly got sucked right into at least 15 new stories, which I read and loved. Promptly after *that,* I went into kind of a downward spiral of, "These are so good. I can't write like this. Why would anyone want to read what I write when these stories are available?" So I avoided writing my stories and reading the stories I usually keep up with by just freaking devouring other fanfiction, to procrastinate. That was a fun week, let me tell YOU. Luckily, my husband (who is known in my family as the Patron Saint of Husbands), saw this and suggested I go through and read some comments/reviews of my stories. He thought I should revisit what the people who actually read my stories think of them. And, because he is a stone cold genius, it worked like a charm. So here I am, again, thanking you guys for being here. The fanfiction community has become a huge part of my life in a very short time, and I can't tell you how beautiful it is to me. You guys are amazing.  
> **Special shoutout to infinity_dreamchaser, peddlergirl, Samsgirlfriend, beckini, and Happygoddess2003. You guys have been with me from the beginning of my journey here, and it's beautiful, and I freaking love you people. <3  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	44. It's Probably Nothing

Chrys woke up the next morning curled around Sam’s huge, muscular frame. As usual, heat was baking off of him, so she was content to stay where she was, basking in warmth and thinking about their conversation the night before.

_ “Yes, you could have.” _

_ “You think so?” _

_ “Because it was me. You would have killed him if you thought he was going to hurt me.” _

She had no idea where her confidence had come from. Sam hadn’t exactly chosen her at the beginning. They hadn’t seen one another from across the room and decide then and there that they simply  _ had _ to have each other. Chrys had been forced upon Sam, and he upon her. There hadn’t been the opportunity to choose at all.

Despite that, somehow, Chrys had come to the conclusion that she would have chosen Sam, anyway. It was strange to her, since she and Sam were so different. His first instinct was toward compassion and understanding, hers was toward violence and rolling her eyes. He tended to be willing to let people talk about their feelings, she usually asked if they wanted a shot of whiskey.

But she’d choose Sam. Always. If given the option, Chrys would pick Sam over anything. And somehow, no matter how nonsensical it seemed to her, she knew Sam would do the same for her.

So she let her head rest on his shoulder and traced the anti-possession tattoo on his chest with her finger, lightly enough that she wouldn’t wake him. For a while, until she heard Dean moving around in the room next to them, Chrys just let herself wallow in how much she loved Sam.

***

The next several weeks passed fairly uneventfully.

Balthazar unsunk the Titanic and claimed it was because he hated Celine Dion. Sam was suspicious, and he knew Dean was, too, but it was Chrys who had accused the angel of lying to them. Balthazar had just smirked, said, “You know, I think you’re my favorite Winchester,” and disappeared.

Chrys accused Cass of lying to them, too, but he deflected.

None of them had thought to correct Balthazar when he’d called Chrys a Winchester. The thought startled Sam when he realized it two weeks later, but it warmed something in him that Chrys hadn’t noticed or objected.  _ Softie, _ he thought fondly.

When they had decided to go back in time to meet Samuel Colt and get the ashes of a phoenix to kill Eve, Sam had been worried. So worried, in fact, that he’d forgotten to dodge Chrys while wearing the stupid shirt that Dean had gotten for him. Sam had watched, bemused, as the woman he loved laughed so hard she cried, then finally collapsed onto the couch when she couldn’t stop.

The humor, however, had fallen off of her face when he had come back. Much to his amusement (which he kept to himself, because Sam was not a stupid man, thank you very much), her blue eyes had darkened, and she had bitten her soft lower lip when he’d reappeared. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that what she was reacting to was what Sam considered the  _ ridiculous _ cowboy hat he was wearing.

Ridiculous or no, when he wore it to bed that night, she’d become warm and pliant in his hands. Right up until she’d threatened him with death if he ever told Dean, which didn’t ruin Sam’s afterglow somehow.

He decided to keep the hat.

***

Chrys was standing outside the diner with Sam, Dean, and Bobby. She was frowning, her mind working a mile a minute.

They had just killed Eve. Rather,  _ Dean _ had just killed Eve. In a rather dazzling stroke of brilliance, he’d ingested the phoenix ash and goaded the Mother of All into biting him. Chrys was impressed, but not surprised. She’d pretty much always known that Dean was a genius. He put on a good show of being dumb, but Chrys knew better.

So instead of showering him with praise (which she kind of wanted to do, but would be bad for his ego), she was frowning and thinking hard about Castiel.

She met Sam’s eyes and saw her doubts reflected back at her from their hazel depths.

Dean, apparently, had also noticed their silent looks. “What?  _ What?” _

Chrys saw this conversation going downhill quickly, with a lot of unnecessary hurt feelings and tiptoeing around the issues. So she made the executive decision to shorten it by cutting to the chase. “Well, I dunno about Sam and Bobby, but I think Cass is lying about Crowley ‘getting away.’” She met her best friend’s eyes. “I think he let him go.”

Dean blanched, then glared at her.  _ “What? _ What the hell are you… C, it’s  _ Cass _ we’re talking about. Sam!” He looked around her at his brother. “Back me up.” When Sam stayed silent, Dean scowled. “Sam?”

Sam sighed. “Look, it’s probably nothing. You’re right, it’s probably nothing.”

Chrys and Bobby snorted in disbelief at the same time. She’d never loved the older hunter more.

***

Castiel had never known how to feel about Chrysanthemum Summers.

She was the product of yet another of his brother’s twisted schemes. Her short life had been filled with exceptional pain, and she had seemingly become stronger for it. She was abrasive, but there was a kindness hidden deep within her.

That kindness, however, did not extend to Castiel.

He supposed some of it had come from the way he’d treated her upon meeting her. He’d been angry and fearful that someone who was so close to Lucifer should be near the Winchesters, as well. So he’d been extremely suspicious of her, and had acted accordingly.

When she had stood up to him in the hospital room when he’d demanded Dean’s amulet, he had felt begrudging respect rise in him. There had been no fear when their eyes had met, only determination and fury and the kind of inner power that only humankind seemed to ever really achieve.

He felt the same respect for her now as he watched, invisible and silent, the humans argue in Bobby’s kitchen about him.

Something deep in his chest hurt as he watched Dean defend him, clinging to the loyalty he had for Castiel, though all of his hunting instincts told him differently. That kind of friendship earned its own respect, but it was different than what Castiel now had for Chrys.

Chrys held grudges like angels held them. Chrys would never forgive Castiel for the way he’d behaved when Sam had sacrificed himself in the pit. To get her loyalty back, to get her back on his side, Castiel would have to do more than apologize.

Seeing how disastrous it had been when he’d pulled her soulmate out of hell, he also thought that probably wouldn’t help his cause.

Now, she was arguing with the people closest to her about Castiel, poking holes in their defenses of him. It was an act of love, just as Dean’s stubborn refusal to believe the worst was.

“He doesn’t know we’re getting close to Crowley,” Dean snapped. “You know, he’s our friend, and we’re lying to him through our  _ teeth.” _

“He’s an  _ angel, _ Dean,” Chrys protested. “I get that people make mistakes, but that’s a pretty big fucking mistake to make. Especially when Sam’s soul was on the line!”

“Then Crowley tricked him!”

Dean and Chrys were standing in the middle of the room, in one another’s faces, snarling. Dean’s hands were curled into fists, and Castiel thought he was probably trying to keep himself from striking the woman in front of him.

Chrys just looked angry.

“Kids,” Bobby said severely. “Nobody’s sayin’ nothin’ yet, so both of you shut your cakeholes.”

Dean turned to snarl at his father figure. “You think that Cass is in with Crowley?  _ Crowley?” _

Bobby held his hands up in surrender. “Look, I’m just saying I don’t know. Now, look, I hate myself for even thinking it. But I don’t  _ know.” _

Sam approached them, too, coming up behind Chrys and putting his hands gingerly on her arms. Castiel was glad to see Sam back to himself. He hadn’t necessarily minded the soulless version, but he could see that this was better. For everyone.   


“Look, Dean,” Sam was saying in a placating tone, “he’s our friend too, okay? And I’d die for him-” Sam had to ignore Chrys’s little growl- “I would, but… Look, I’m praying we’re wrong here.”   
  
“But if we’re not…” Chrys said pointedly.   
  
“That means we’re dealing with a Superman who’s gone darkside,” Bobby said grimly. “Which means we gotta be cautious, we gotta be smart… And maybe stock up on some Kryptonite.”   
  
***   
  
Chrys watched as Castiel smote the demons that had been sent to kill them, guilt and suspicion warring within her.   
  
They were in the home of what appeared to be one of Crowley’s higher-ups. They’d come without Castiel because, despite Dean’s protests, the other three were still suspicious of the angel. Sam and Bobby seemed to feel bad about it. Chrys had been fine with it.   
  
But as she watched Castiel smite the demons who had intended to kill them, the familiar feeling of guilt settled over her shoulders.  _ Dammit. _ She didn’t want to feel guilty about suspecting Castiel. She didn’t necessarily want to be right, either, but she certainly didn’t want to feel guilty.   
  
As the demons fell, Chrys saw the tenseness drain out of Dean’s shoulders. “It’s good to see you, Cass.”   
  
The angel nodded. “Is everyone all right?”   
  
“Yeah,” Sam answered, coming to stand next to Chrys. “Perfect timing, Cass.”   
  
“I’m glad I found you. I come with news.”   
  
Dean perked up a little. “Yeah? What?”   
  
“I firmly believe Crowley is alive.”   
  
Chrys snorted, and Dean shot her the stinkeye before briefly turning to Castiel again. “You think, Kojak?” then he looked back at Chrys deliberately. “Well, C? What do we think about Cass saving our asses… Again?”   
  
Chrys ignored him to look evenly at the angel. “I’m not going to apologize, because you’re shady as fuck, but Dean is referring to the fact that we’ve been hunting Crowley without telling you. Because I, personally, thought you were working with him.”   
  
Castiel blinked. “What?”   
  
“I know,” Dean said cheerfully. “Crazy, right?”   
  
Chrys hmphed. “Again, shady as fuck, not to mention he torched the wrong bones. Wrong though I may have been, I am not crazy.”   
  
Castiel frowned. “You could have just asked.”   
  
Dean nodded. “And we should have. We never should have doubted you. It’s… I just hope you can forgive us.”   
  
Chrys refrained from making the derogatory comment that she wanted to. She didn’t particularly care of Castiel forgave her or not, but this was important to Dean. No matter how she felt, she knew she was on thin ice with him because of her mistrust of the angel. So, for once, she kept her thoughts to herself.   
  
It was worth it, because Dean was smiling. “Thanks.”   
  
Cass took on a kind of pondering expression. “It is a little absurd, though. Superman going darkside. I’m still just Castiel.”   
  
Chrys’s blood froze. She didn’t move a muscle, didn’t let on that he had made a mistake, but her face felt numb with shock.  _ How does… When did… Oh, no. _ __  
  
“I guess we can put away the Kryptonite, right?” Dean’s words were carefully casual. Someone would have to know him very well to hear the tenseness in them.   
  
Chrys heard it just fine.   
  
***   
  
They were getting ready to summon Castiel, and Chrys felt more guilt and weariness in her veins. It was giving her a headache, honestly.   
  
She reflected that maybe her life had been easier when there had been no one to care about in it. Emptier, maybe, but easier. More dangerous, even, when no one had been around to watch her back, but it had meant that she had no one else’s back to watch, either.   
  
As he walked by her, Sam pressed an absent-minded kiss to her temple before going to finish pouring the holy oil. Chrys heaved a sigh and watched him.   
  
Emptier, more dangerous, and easier, maybe… But definitely not better.   
  
“Dean,” she said softly. “You know I hate this.”   
  
He hmphed, but didn’t look up from the spell he had in his hand. “Yeah, you’ve always hated being right.”

She scowled. “Hey, fuck you, Winchester. I’m trying to say I’m sorry for this situation. I’m in this, you  _ know _ I’m in this. I’ll do whatever it takes to get Cass out of whatever bullshit he’s in.”

_ For your sake, and Sam’s, and Bobby’s, not the angel’s. Always for you three. Ugh. _

Disgusted with herself at her sappy thoughts, Chrys turned and went to stand next to Bobby. She heard Dean’s frustrated sigh, but ignored it. She was in no mood to indulge the drama queen that lived inside the eldest Winchester.

She watched dispassionately as Dean prayed. “Castiel, uh… We need you for a little powwow down here, so come on down.”

The angel obliged by appearing. “Hello.”

Bobby’s eyebrows went up. “Johnny on the spot.”

“You’re still here.”

“We had to bury the bodies,” Chrys said softly.

“And we found a little whiskey.” There was strain in the way Dean smiled. It almost made Chrys regret the harsh way she’d spoken to him earlier.

“How can I help?” Castiel asked.

“Look, we, um… We have a new plan,” Sam said slowly. “We think we’ve finally figured out a way to track down Crowley.”

Castiel looked surprised. Chrys gave him some credit, she hadn’t thought he’d had the acting ability to pull it off. “What is it?” he asked.

_ Showtime. _ She lit the match in her hand and dropped it, effectively trapping Castiel in a ring of holy fire.

“It’s you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hi, I'm back. I missed you guys. I don't even have a good excuse for why this update took too long, except anxiety/depression/apathy/bleh.  
> **Rushed chapter, I know, my bad, I just don't have any fucking interest in this season, so we're going through it too fast.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	45. She's in Danger

Bella Pangborn’s apartment had hardwood floors. She loved the dark wood, the white walls, and the big windows, so she took very good care of those hardwood floors.

When Chrys had moved in, they’d argued about painting devil’s traps onto the floor. Bella had kept her mouth shut about the salt lines, but drew the line at painting on her beautiful floors. She’d understood that Chrys had been through something terrible, but not enough to mutilate her home for something she only half believed. 

They had settled the argument with rugs. Chrys bought several rugs, painted the symbols on the bottom, and put them all over the house. Bella still didn’t like them, but she’d let them be for the woman she loved.

Months after Chrys left, it came time to buff the hardwood. Bella rolled the rugs up, put them in the closet, and got to work.

As she worked, Bella thought about all of the precautions that Chrys had insisted she take. They were the same precautions that Dean had insisted that Lisa take, although he had been less polite about the paint on the floor. Lisa had just… Come home to devil’s traps painted on the floor.  Damn near Lisa’s entire home was covered in wards and traps and sigils. Dean had insisted that he was just being cautious, but Bella thought he was being paranoid. Chrys leaned more towards Dean’s argument, and when Bella asked about their own home, Chrys responded with a vague, “Oh, no one wants me anymore. We don’t have to be as careful as Dean and Lisa do.”   
  
When she was done with the floors, sweaty and exhausted, Bella looked at the rugs in the closet for a long, long time. Did she want to continue to humor a woman who was no longer there? Did she really think Dean and Chrys were crazy? On the othe rhand, how could she believe them?   
  
Bella shut the door to the closet, left the rugs where they were, and went to take a shower.   
  
***   
  
Chrys jumped when Dean slammed the book he was reading shut. Then she rolled her eyes and prepared herself for the whining.   
  
“Well,” Dean snapped, “Samuels’ journals are pointless. I mean, I’m sorry but, uh. Jebediah Campbell has squat to tell me about how to stop Cass from cracking Purgatory.”   
  
“Well, I may have found something,” Bobby said evenly as he walked back into the study, a journal in one hand and a beer in the other.   
  
Chrys sat up. “What’s up?”   
  
“The journal of one Moishe Campbell.”   
  
Sam wrinkled his nose. “Moishe?”   
  
Bobby nodded. “Of the New York Campbells.” He set the journal on one of the desks and flipped it open. “I think I zeroed in on something. ‘Went to talk to Howard Phillips about the events of March tenth.’”   
  
Chrys stood and came to stand next to Bobby, waiting for Dean and Sam to join them before she spoke. “Okay, so who is Howard Phillips?”   
  
“Well, Philips ain’t his last name,” Bobby said thoughtfully. “It’s Lovecraft.”   
  
Chrys grinned. “As in… H.P. Lovecraft?”   
  
Sam picked the journal up. “Holy shit.”   
  
Dean was frowning. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”   
  
Chrys looked up. “Horror writer. At the Mountains of Madness? The Call of Cthulu?”   
  
Dean shrugged. “Yeah, it’s… No, I’m… I was too busy having sex with women.”   
  
Chrys seriously considered ignoring her cell phone when it started ringing. But there were only a couple of people with that number, and they were important people, so she went to answer it as she listened to the conversation behind her.   
  
Bobby rolled his eyes. “Well, anyhow, there’s one notion that comes up over and over again in his stories. Namely opening doors to other dimensions and letting scary shit through.”   
  
Dean scoffed. “You don’t say.”   
  
“Wait,” Sam said eagerly, “So you’re saying you think Lovecraft knew something about Purgatory?”   
  
“All I know is Moishe paid him a visit.”   
  
Chrys flipped her phone open. “Hello?”   
  
_ “Chrys?” _   
  
Chrys’s entire body felt like it had been dunked in ice water. “Bella?”    
  
_ “Chrys, there are… Chrys, there are men in the house.” _   
  
Chrys reacted on instinct to the fear in Bella’s ragged whisper. She grabbed her jacket, then swung by and snatched the keys to the Impala out of Dean’s pocket before he could protest. “Bella, what do they look like?”   
  
“Hey!” Dean snapped, following her. “What’s going on?”   
  
_ “Chrys, they… Chrys, I don’t know, their eyes…” _   
  
“What about their eyes, baby? Were they black? Did they glow?” Dean was now on high alert as he followed her, no longer protesting.   
  
_ “Bl… Black, they’re black.” _   
  
“Okay, demons. Bells, baby, where are you?”   
  
_ “Closet.” _   
  
Chrys closed her eyes in defeat. Fuck. Bella had effectively cornered herself by hiding in the closet. There was no way to get her out of there. “Okay, stay calm, Bells. It’s gonna be all right. I’m coming for you, okay? Just stay calm and quiet.”   
  
_ “Chrys! Chrys, they’re coming closer!” _   
  
The blatant panic in Bella’s voice had Chrys’s heart shattering in her chest. She stopped moving toward the door and pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Okay, Bella, listen to me, just-”   
  
Bella’s scream cut her off, and Chrys felt her eyes fill with tears. “Bella? Bella?  _ Bella!” _   
  
There was more screaming, and then a smarmy, English, demonic voice answered the phone. “Hello, Chrysanthemum. Fancy a chat?”   
  
As the words floated through the line, so did all emotion drain out of Chrys. She was empty, nothing was left in her but a violent, insistent urge to find out where Crowley had taken Bella. “Crowley. What the fuck do you want? And I swear to Christ, if you hurt Bella-”   
  
“Yes, yes, you’ll rip me a cornucopia of new orifices. Lovely. Let’s get to the bit where I tell you how this-”   
  
“You want us to stop chasing Cass?” Chrys interrupted, her mind whirring with information and theories. “Fuck you. Bring Bella back, maybe I’ll consider it.”   
  
“You’re adorable when you get all threatening. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt the pretty little thing. Provided you and Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum stand down. Got it? Splendid. Kisses.” The line went dead.

“Chrys?” Sam’s worried voice put her on edge. “Chrys, what’s going on?”

_ Oh, fuck. _ “Crowley. He has Bella.”

A big, warm hand on her lower back had her turning to look at the person who had put it there. When she met green eyes instead of hazel, something inside her relaxed. “What’s the story?” Deak asked somberly.

Chrys was incredibly grateful, then, for her friend. Things had been tense between them since they’d found out that Castiel was working with the king of hell. So much so that when Chrys had helped Bobby ward the house against angels, correcting a few of the enochian symbols as they went, Dean could be heard stomping and carrying on for hours afterwards.

His quiet support got her brain working again. She took a deep breath, then let it out explosively before speaking. “He… Crowley has Bella. He’s holding her hos…” Her voice broke, and she coughed a little before she could continue. “Hostage. So we’ll stop looking for him.”

Sam sighed, sending awareness and sick guilt skittering across Chrys’s nerves. “You think Cass knows about this?”

“Oh, oh yes,” Chrys snarled softly. “I  _ absolutely _ think that motherfucker knows about this.”

“Well, what are we gonna do?” Bobby asked.

“I’m going to go find Bella,” Chrys said simply. “And then I’m going to  _ kill _ Crowley.” She met Dean’s eyes. “And anyone else, the angel included, who’s stupid enough to get in my way.”

***

“Look, I don’t know anything.”

Chrys ignored the nervous demon as she strapped him down. “We’ll see.”

Dean, who was holding the thing down, chuckled darkly. “Heard that a lot tonight.”

Chrys let herself smirk a little. “Yes, we have.”

Once the demon was bound, she stood and turned to take a sip of coffee. Dean was drinking whiskey, and she’d been tempted, but she wanted a clear head for this, and her tolerance for booze was shit now, anyway.

Before she could turn back around, Sam came down the stairs, making her tense. “Chrys,” he said softly.

She knew that he was trying to be comforting, and she should let herself be comforted. She knew he was trying to watch out for her, but he just made her tense and angry.

 

“What, Sam?" 

Her pissy tone didn’t seem to faze him. “Look, you… You’re running on, what? Coffee and, like, rage?”

“So?” she snarked as she watched Dean slip out of the room.  _ Wimp. _

Sam’s tone gentled as he came toward her, his hands held out to the sides in an extremely irritatingly placating manner. “We’re grasping at straws here.”

“Look, eventually, one of these bastards is going to know where Crowley is. So let me do my thing and back off.”

Sam sighed, which made her itch to slap him. “Well, look, you’ve been at it for a while. Why don’t you let me take over?”

“No, thanks.” She moved to walk around him, determined to stay on her path.  _ Stupid Sam and his stupid hero complex and his stupid patience. _

He snagged her arm as she tried to walk by. “Chrys.”

Something deep within her snapped. She yanked her arm away from him and turned to face him. She dropped the knife, lest she be tempted to stab him.

Chrys didn’t have  _ great _ self control.

“Look,” she hissed, “Bella is in this because of  _ me. _ She’s in danger, probably hurt, maybe being tortured, because of  _ me. _ Because I built her up and made her love me and created a life with her, and then when  _ you _ walked in, I just waltzed off into the sunset with you, without so much as  _ thinking _ about making sure she was safe.”   


His face creased in concern. “Chrys, it wasn’t your-” 

“Yes, it was!” she shouted. “It is absolutely, one hundred percent my fault, so don’t you dare look me in the eye and lie to me about it. It’s my fault she’s in this, and I’m going to get her out. So keep your goddamn hands and concern and  _ whatever _ to your fucking self, and get the fuck out of my way.”

She grabbed the knife, turned to the demon, and proceeded to do what she had to do. She ignored Sam until he left in a huff.

***

Chrys opened her eyes to observe the building that Balthazar said Crowley was keeping Chrys’s woman. Balthazar had spoken to Castiel, then come back to the Winchesters to work with them. Chrys didn’t particularly care about their little angelic soap opera just then. She had too much at at stake.

“All right,” Balthazar said breezily. “This is where I get off. God be with you and what have you.”

Chrys started toward the building without looking back. “Well, he hasn’t been so far.”

Later, Chrys wouldn’t be able to recall most of what happened as they made their way into the building. She was vaguely aware of Sam splitting off, and she was relieved, which she didn’t examine too closely. There would be time to figure out her feelings later. For now, she had work to do.

The fog in her mind lifted when she came into the room where Bella was being held. Relief washed through her, making her knees weak as she ran down the stairs to get to the redhead.

“Oh, thank God,” Bella breathed, trembling as Chrys approached.

“Shh, I’ve got you. Let’s get you out of here, Bells,” Chrys soothed as she cut the ties holding Bella immobile.

Once she was free, Chrys smiled and stepped toward her. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

Bella smiled, and Chrys’s insides froze again. “Not yet we haven’t,” Bella purred as her eyes flickered to black. She stepped forward, yanked the demon killing knife from Chrys’s slack hand, and pressed the tip to her own stomach.

That spurred Chrys into action. “Bella!”

The redhead had a cruel smile on her lips as she spoke. “Ah, ah, you stay where you are, or this hot little piece of ass gets a free appendectomy.” Chrys froze, and the demon laughed.

“Get out of her,” Chrys growled. She felt heat at her back, and knew it was Dean standing behind her.

“She hates you, you know,” the demon said softly, eyes flicking between the two hunters. “She wishes she’d never met you, or wasted a year of her life with you.”

Chrys just stared at her, hand moving slowly, not giving up eye contact. She stayed silent.

“Honestly, she wishes you had stayed dead when Lucifer killed you. Well, when she’s not thinking you’re a fucking whack job, anyway.”

_ Ouch. _ That one stung, but Chrys didn’t let it stop her from throwing the holy water she’d uncorked into the demon’s face. When it screeched and dropped the knife, Chrys started muttering the exorcism as Dean tackled the demon.  _ “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus-” _

The demon was thrashing in Dean’s hold, but he held fast, snarling as he held her down. The demon screeched, but stopped abruptly to meet Chrys’s eyes.

“You ruined her life and she knows it. You came in, took over, and  _ left. _ She knows whose fault this is, and she’s certainly not blaming  _ herself.” _

Chrys didn’t waver as she finished the exorcism. She already hated herself for what she’d done to Bella, so the self-loathing coursing through her veins was nothing new.

She watched dispassionately as the black smoke vacated Bella’s body, then watched her ex slump into unconsciousness.

“Fuck.”

***

Bella was sitting on her living room sofa, staring at the love of her life and trying to fight through the fog of surrealism that seemed to be totally blocking her ability to comprehend what the hell was going on.

Dean, she knew, of course. His worried, sad eyes caught hers every so often, and she tried to give him a comforting smile when they did. It didn’t seem to be helping.

Sam was an enigma to her. He looked tense and worried, but mostly about Chrys. Which, in Bella’s opinion, was the way it should be, but his concern seemed to be more than the situation called for. He was  _ distraught. _

Castiel was too much for her overwrought mind to deal with.

So she just looked at Chrys’s familiar, comforting, beloved face. Chrys was smiling just a little bit, but she was upset, too.

“Okay,” Bella said softly. “I guess I don’t understand.”   
  
Chrys nodded. “Basically, Cass can… Erase your memories. Take you out of the equation, which should keep you safe from me-related danger.”   
  
“How will erasing my memories make it so other people won’t kidnap me?”   
  
Chrys smiled tightly, but there was sympathy and pain in her expression. It made Bella want to touch her, and she almost leaned forward to do just that before she remembered that that wasn’t something Bella was allowed to do anymore.   
  
“It’s more like… He’s going to take our time together and get rid of it. You won’t be the only one who doesn’t remember, no one and nothing will remember. It’ll be like… Like we never happened at all.”   
  
Bella stared at Chrys for a few moments, trying to absorb that. She frowned. “Chrys, I don’t want us to never have happened. I love y-”   
  
“Bella, please.” Chrys’s soft, desperate whisper had Bella shutting right up. Chrys rolled forward until she was on her knees in front of Bella on the sofa, her hands on Bella’s legs, wrapping around her own hands.   
  
“Bella, please, baby, I want you to do this. I know that… I know that this is awful, but this is the only way I can protect you from all of this.” Chrys’s blue eyes were wet and insistent, and Bella felt her resolve crumbling.    
  
“I can’t… Bells, I can’t stay here with you to make sure that nothing gets to you. And this, this will help. It’s a  _ good _ thing.” Bella watched as Chrys ran her thumbs along the tender skin of Bella’s inner wrists. “It will only hurt for a moment, then you won’t remember me at all,” Chrys finished with a whisper.   
  
Bella thought about it for a long moment, weighing the pros and cons, just watching Chrys’s lovely, capable hands enfold hers. Did she want to do this? Did she want to lose Chrys and all of the good she’d brought with her?   
  
_ On the other hand, _ a sneaky voice in the back of her mind said, h _ ow much good did she actually bring? _ Though she was loathe to admit it, the voice had a point. Bella had not only lost the love of her life, but also a good bartender. So in the midst of the deep, dark, black depression that had completely taken over her life, she’d also had to hire someone else to work at the bar. She’d had to find a way to explain all of the weird shit all over her house to the one girl she’d brought over since Chrys had left, and it had hurt so much to remember that she’d asked the woman to leave, anyway.   
  
“Okay,” she whispered. “Yeah, do it.”   
  
She saw Chrys flinch, but then her face was smoothing out and she was nodding. “Good,” Chrys said softly. She turned to Castiel. “Cass, go ahead.”   
  
The angel took two steps forward and placed a cold palm on her forehead. “This will only take a moment,” he said softly, his gravelly voice soothing her just a bit.   
  
Bella met Chrys’s eyes again, and was seized by how wrong this was.   
  
No matter  _ how _ much bad had come from Chrys, she didn’t deserve to be erased from Bella’s memory. Bella  _ adored _ Chrys, loved her wit and her smile and her bitchiness and her “go fuck yourself” attitude. She couldn’t do this. Not to Chrys, who had lost so much. Bella didn’t want to be something else Chrys lost.   
  
She opened her mouth to say so, but her memories began to fade, and soon she was asleep.   
  
***   
  
Chrys sat in the back of the Impala as they drove to the motel, lost in thought.    
  
_ Bells changed her mind. _   
  
Bella had decided that she didn’t want to erase Chrys.   
  
Chrys took that away from her. Chrys had seen it, and there had been a split second where she might have been able to swat the angel’s hand away, or tell him not to, or pull Bella away from danger, but she had just… Sat there. Watched as it happened. Didn’t lift a finger to give Bella what she’d wanted, or to respect her choice.   
  
Her safety had been more important to Chrys than her free will, and that was really killing Chrys.   
  
_ I’m just like him, _ she thought with dawning horror.  _ I’m just like Lucifer. I didn’t give a fuck what she wanted, I just made her do what I wanted her to. _ __  
__  
__ Oh, God.   
  
***   
  
Sam watched as Chrys pulled her bags from the trunk of the Impala, his heart breaking. “Chrys, I dont-”   
  
“I know you don’t understand, Sammy,” she said softly as she slammed the trunk closed. “I just… I need a minute.”   
  
“Did I do something wrong?”   
  
She put the bag down and came to stand in front of him. He noticed with resentment that she didn’t touch him at all. “No, Sam, you didn’t do anything. This isn’t… It’s not because of you, okay?” She took a deep breath and ran her hands through her hair. “This is because when you came back, I left Bella without a backwards glance. Yeah, I was sad, but it took all of twenty minutes to convince me to go. I haven’t called her, I haven’t checked in, and I thought it was because I was saving her the heartache, but maybe… Maybe it was because I didn’t want to deal with her.” She met his eyes. “I just have to be sure that being with you, hunting with the two of you, is the right thing. I have to be sure. I know I want to hunt, but... “ She shook her head. “I think close proximity to you makes it hard for me to think. It makes it hard for me to know what the right thing is, because I want to be with you so much.”   
  
Sam ached to touch her, to take her in his arms and take her away from the worry and fear in her mind. That, however, seemed counter-intuitive to what she was saying, and Sam knew a little something about needing to make sure you were in the right before you did something. So he nodded. “Okay, I… I understand.” He didn’t, though, not in his heart.   
  
Dean chose that moment, luckily, to pull up in the nondescript sedan he’d stolen. He was grinning out of the window. “All right, Summers, this is about as boring as I could find.”   
  
Chrys was smiling a little. “Looks good to me.”   
  
Dean got out and tossed the keys to her. Jealousy burned in Sam’s chest when she stepped forward and pressed a kiss to Dean’s cheek before she threw her bag into the passenger seat and turned to smile wanly at them. She was standing in the “V” created by the car and the door, and she waved her hand in farewell, but didn’t say anything as she slid into the car, started it, and drove away.   
  
“She’ll be all right,” Dean said confidently. “Just gotta get her head on straight.   
  
Sam didn’t say anything, just tried not to let the ragged tear opening in his heart swallow him whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I don't even have a good excuse, but I thought I was coming out of my depression, and then I tailspun into one of what was probably the worst low point I've ever gone through. One of my fosters (a 3 week old kitten, abandoned by mama) died, work got really, really stressful, and I just in general entered a grey mindset where nothing mattered to me. BUT! I made some changes, pretty significant ones, and I'm okay now. I wrote for the first time in three weeks today, which is pretty big progress. I usually like to have at least one chapter written ahead of the one I'm posting, but I feel so good today and I feel so bad for holding out on you guys that I couldn't put it off anymore.  
> **I love you guys. Thanks for sticking with me.  
> **Chrys made some bad choices here.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	46. Stow Your Crap

Chrys watched dispassionately as the bones burned. She didn’t have to stay, she  knew they’d be done for, but she did anyway. It wasn’t like she had anywhere else to be.

It had been two weeks since she’d left the Winchesters, since she’d left Sam. She couldn’t decide if she was ready to go back yet. Or if she _should_ go back.

She knew that she wanted to. Fuck, did she want to. Although her supernatural connection to Sam had been severed by Death, she still felt an ache or her soulmate. It was just no longer a _physical_ ache. It was just your garden variety heartache.

She _missed_ him. She missed running her fingers through his long hair. Or the way he would cock an eyebrow at her when she said something bitchy or outlandish. The warmth of his big hand on her hip, or the small of her back. She was half out of her mind with missing him. She spent quite a bit of time with her car keys in her hand, debating the pros and cons of going back.

The only thing keeping her away was the bone-chilling fear that being with Sam made her a bad person. She wasn’t under the impression that she was a particularly _good_ one, but she’d always assumed that, given the choice between right and wrong, she would choose the former.

Now, she wondered.

It wasn’t just because of Bella, although that wa her biggest red flag. What she’d done to Bella, essentially _stealing_ her memories, was something Chrys could barely wrap her head around. Had she done it to protect the other woman, or herself? Had she been genuinely concerned for Bella’s safety, or had she wanted to get rid of her responsibility to Bella?

The questions plagued Chrys, kept her up at night, made it hard for her to think. She’d been making sure to keep busy, hunting nonstop to keep her thoughts at bay. Sometimes it had even worked.

As she started to shovel the dirt she’d disturbed back into the grave, though, she couldn’t shake her worries.

_Do I want to hunt because it’s the right thing to do? Or am I trying to make up for being a terrible human being?_

_Do I love Sam because of Lucifer? Or would I love him anyway?_

_More importantly, how far would I go for Sam, to keep us together?_

She kept asking herself the questions, but found no answers.

***

She caught wind of a case in South Dakota, and thought long and hard about whether or not to take it. People were dying, disappearing, and the irritating nobility that Sam had instilled in her was pulling her to go.

The proximity to Bobby, and the main hangout of the Winchesters, however, was worrying her.

In the end, she went. It was a big state, and if they were there, she’d hightail herself out before they caught wind of her presence.

Decision made, she packed up, checked out of her room, and left.

***

Sam respected Chrys’ wishes to keep his distance for three days. All it had taken was Dean asking, “Are we _really_ not gonna tail her?” and they’d been off.

He’d watched her work three cases in two weeks. She was efficient and thorough, compassionate when she spoke to victims, ruthless when she killed the monsters she sought. It served as an unnecessarily reminder that Chrys was a good hunter, with or without him.

Sam was trying to wrap his head around what Chrys was going through. Was she right? Did the two of them want to be together so much that they put the people around them in danger? More worrying, did it matter?

Sam thought not.

He had entertained the thought that he shouldn’t be quite so okay with the idea that he would watch the world burn for Chrys, but he couldn’t really muster anything like that up. His life had been hard, the odds stacked against him since before he’d been born. Maybe it was a little selfish, but Sam loved Chrys without reservation, and he wanted her at his side as long as she wanted to be there.

He and Dean never interfered with her investigations. They just watched, made sure she didn’t need backup, made sure she never got into a situation she couldn’t get herself back out of.

She never did.

Chrys was extremely careful when she hunted alone. She waited until daytime to go on the search for the monsters, and she researched cases meticulously until she knew without doubt that she had her culprit. She had not, in the last two weeks, slipped up once.

That didn’t make it any easier to sit and watch the minutes tick by for too long while Chrys was in a decrepit barn in South Dakota with a vampire. Sam was starting to get antsy. They were hidden in the woods near the building.

Dean looked over to Sam, his face grim. “She’s got five minutes, Sammy. Five minutes, then I’m going in, with or without you.”

***

Chrys had been so fucking careful. She had interviewed the patrons of the little dance club, narrowed down her suspects, and it had come up vampire. Not that it had been a particularly difficult conclusion to come to, exsanguinated bodies and mangled necks pointing pretty clearly to the undead. She’d double-checked _everything_ before she’d gotten to the abandoned barn the vampire had been hiding out in.

So she was wildly, massively, _overwhelmingly_ irritated that she’d somehow overlooked the _hostage_ that the vampire bitch had taken.

The boy, probably no older than fifteen or sixteen, was staying as still as possible. His wide brown eyes were terrified, and every sharp exhale also released a little frightened whimper.

“Come on, the jig is up,” Chrys snapped. “Let the kid go, and we’ll handle this woman on woman.”

The vampire bared her teeth viciously. “Hunter whore. You have no bargaining power here. _I’m_ the one who ha the boy.” She pressed her nose into the teenager’s throat and inhaled sharply. “And he’s just _lovely.”_

Chrys scowled, then met the boy’s eyes. She tried to put on a reassuring face. “Listen, Kenneth, that’s your name, right? Everything is gonna be okay, I’m gonna get you out of this alive.”

The vamp jerked Kenneth by the hold she had around his throat and let out a harsh laugh. “And how do you plan on doing that, with _that?”_ Her eyes flicked to the machete in Chrys’s hand. “Your little butter knife?”

Chrys weighed her options as carefully as she could in a few seconds. On one hand, there was the possibility that she could negotiate Kenneth away. It was a slim chance, though, and there was a much greater chance that the monster would just snap the kid’s neck before Chrys could move.

There really weren’t a lot of options.

Chrys flipped her hold on the machete, took one strong step forward, and flung her weapon across the barn.

There was a satisfying _thunk!_ as the blade sank into the vampire’s skull. Chrys sprinted to close the distance between them, then grabbed Kenneth’s arm and wrenched him away before the monster could get her bearings back. She heard the snap, and the boy’s pained cry, but ignored them both to grab the machete and yank it out of the vamp’s head.

The pale creature snarled and lunged. Before it could do any damage, Chrys swung hard. It was a weird angle, but she put all of her strength into it, and the vampire’s head fell to the floor with a thump.

Chrys heaved in a breath, then let it out explosively. She turned to Kenneth, who was cradling his arm against his chest and was almost as pale as the vampire had been. Chrys winced. “Hey, are you okay? I’m sorry about-”

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He let a beat of silence pass, then, “So… So, that was, like, a real life vampire.”

Chrys nodded. “Yes, yes she was.” She sighed and met his gaze again. “Look, I know that was weird, and that you’re probably freaking out, but it would honestly be best if you just forgot everything you saw and heard okay?” When he just continued to stare at her, she gestured for him to come closer. “Come on, let’s get you to a hospital, yeah?”

She helped him into her car, then drove as fast as safely possible away from the barn and the body.

Five minutes into the drive, Kenneth turned to look at her. “So, you… Like, do this for a _living?”_

Chrys nodded. “Pretty much.” She frowned and pointed at him. “But don’t go getting any ideas, you hear me? The ay is shit, and you don’t get holidays off.”

He didn’t laugh. “Alone?” he asked softly. “You do this alone?”

Chrys paused. “Um… No, not usually. My… Boyfriend? I guess? I don’t know, that’s kind of complicated, but his name is Sam, and we’re usually together.”

He frowned. “Well, where the fuck _is_ he, then?” He sounded indignant on her ehalf, which almost made Chrys smile.

“We… Uh, we had kind of a fight, and I took off. But it’s not like I can’t take care of myself, all right? Saved your ass, anyway.”

Kenneth stared at her for another moment, then turned to look out the window.

The rest of the drive was silent.

***

Chrys pulled into a parking space in front of the hospital and turned to Kenneth. “All right, here’s where you get off. I can’t… I can’t really go in with you, but will you be all right?”

He finally turned to look at her. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He took a deep breath, like he was bracing himself. “Look, I don’t even know your name, but can I give you some advice? This Sam-boyfriend-it’s-complicated person? You should go find him. Because, like, I don’t even really _know_ what you deal with on a daily basis, but…” He met her eyes. “It can’t have a real long life expectancy, right?”

Chrys blinked. “Uh… I guess?”

He nodded. “Right. So, like… Look, life is extra short for you guys, so you should go find Sam. Find him, and make it uncomplicated. Figure it out, stow your crap, _whatever._ And then stick with him.” He smiled tremulously. “Because, I mean, it would be better to be together, right?”

Chrys blinked again, then inhaled sharply. “You’re too smart for a fifteen-year-old, get the hell out of my car.”

Kenneth scoffed. “Hey! I’m sixteen!”

She rolled her eyes. “Go ahead, go on. Get that arm taken care of, and make sure you be careful, okay?”

Kenneth nodded and put his hand on the door handle to open the door. Before he could open it, he turned back and looked at her again. “Um… Hey, thanks. For saving my life. And stuff.”

Chrys smiled. “No problem, kiddo.”

***

Chrys waited another two days to call Sam.

“Chrys? Chrys, are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, Sammy. Just, um… Can we meet somewhere?”

“Anywhere.”

***

When Sam pulled up in his borrowed car, he saw Chrys sitting on the trunk of her own stolen sedan, staring up. She was in the parking lot of a motel, and she didn’t turn to acknowledge him, but she did greet him with a soft, “Hey, Sammy.”

He jumped up onto the trunk and sat next to her, leaning back on his hands to gaze at the sky with her. “Hey, beautiful.”

He ached at the sight of her, at how close they were sitting. He wanted to wrap himself around her, but he fought the urge and stayed where he was.

He’d waited two and a half weeks for her, he could wait a few more minutes.

“So, here’s the thing, Sam,” she said finally, not moving any closer. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us, and what we’re doing. Am I in love with you just because of Lucifer? Or am I in love with you anyway? I don’t know why, but the answer seemed… Important to me.”

Sam swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay. Did you… Did you find the answer?”

She finally turned to smile a little bit at him. “Uh, no. No, I did not. But I got some advice from someone, and I’ve kind of decided that it doesn’t matter.”

His eyebrows shot up. “It doesn’t matter?”

She shook her head. “No, it doesn’t. I mean, I love you, you love me, why would it matter how we got there?”

“So… So, are we okay?”

She took another deep breath. “Almost.”

Before his heart could plummet, she turned to look at him again. “Here’s the thing. You’re a good man.” When he scoffed a little, she punched him in the arm. “Shut up, you _are._ You’ve done some fucked up stuff, and you’ve messed up, but where it counts, you’re a good, just, _kind_ man.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “So, what does-”

“Shut up, Sam,” she interrupted fondly. “I’m on a roll.” She looked away from him, back up to the sky. “You’re a good person who has done some bad things, but I’m _not._ I’m a bad person, Sam.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she was already continuing. “I’m selfish, and mean, and ruthless. I’ve done some okay things, I’ve saved some people, but deep down, I’m not good, I’m actually kind of shitty.”

She turned to look at him again, and there was wariness in her blue eyes. “What that means for us is this. I would do _anything_ for you. Not in a cute, fifth grade, you can carry my books to my locker sort of way, but in a ‘I-would-quite-literally- _murder_ -someone-for-you’ sort of way.” She searched his face. “So I guess, right now, you need to decide how okay you are with-”

Sam couldn’t take it anymore. The slight anxious tremor in her voice, the unsure way she held herself, he couldn’t stand it. He raised his hand and cupped her face, running a thumb along her cheekbone. She quieted and blinked up at him. “Sam?” she whispered.

“Chrys, I… It’s the same for me. I don’t know how much I’m on board with the idea that I’m good and you’re not, but I can tell you it’s the same for me. I love you, and I won’t let anything come between us, okay?”

Her small, genuine smile lit his insides up like a flipped switch. “Okay, Sammy.”

He finally wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, pressing his lips to her temple as she came to lean against him. “Let’s go home, beautiful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **What I want to say to you: I'm feeling great! Everything has evened out, I'm a thousand percent happy, I am BRIMMING with ideas for this story and for new ones, updates will be regular from now on.  
> **What the truth is: I'm doing okay but not great. I've realized I need to go back to therapy, which blows, but I'm going to go. I have approximately 4 ideas for this story and the other 4 that I'm writing. I'm a mess, but I'm going to try really fucking hard not to go a month between updates next time. Thanks for sticking with me.  
> **On the other hand, I'm finally starting to feel good about this story again, so that's kind of nice.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	47. Make Me

“Well, where the hell is she?”

Chrys rolled her eyes at Dean’s irritated question. They were all on edge and twitchy after another week of finding absolutely nothing on how to keep Purgatory’s gates closed. While Chrys was grateful that the universe (she still refused to credit God with anything good) had seen fit to give her almost a month to get her head on straight, it did mean that there was now only two days before the eclipse that would let Castiel and Crowley open the doorway they wanted.

Bobby’s friend Eleanor, surprisingly a creature of Purgatory herself, had finally agreed to meet with them, to give them the information they wanted. Chrys privately thought the other woman had been reckless in her decision to wait so long, but because Chrys had had more than her fair share of reckless decisions, she kept her mouth shut.

Bobby was shrugging and pulling his phone out of his pocket as they approached the end of the alley that was supposed to act as the rendezvous point. “She said to meet her here. I'll try her again.”

They heard the ringing of a cell phone, and Chrys’ stomach dropped when she saw the device ringing and lighting up on the ground next to the dumpster that was the alley’s only other occupant.

Well, not  _ only _ other.

When Chrys hurried toward the phone, she saw an older woman slumped against that dumpster, looking up at her with dull eyes. Chrys stepped aside so Bobby could fall to his knees next to the prone woman, who was clearly injured.

“El?”

Eleanor smiled wanly. “Hey. I guess I could’ve used your help after all.”

Chrys frowned. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

“They took me. I got away.” She slowly opened the stylish coat she wore to expose her stomach, blood soaking the shirt around the gaping wound.

Bobby sucked in a harsh breath. “Oh, Ellie. What have they done to you?”

Eleanor chuckled wetly, and Chrys heard a death rattle in the sound. “Everything. The… The demon, I could have handled, but when the angel stepped in, I…” She winced, and tears filled her pretty eyes. “I told him, Bobby. They have enough to crack Purgatory wide open.”

“Tell me,” Bobby insisted softly. “I need to know.”

“They need virgin blood. That's a milk run for them. And they need the blood of a Purgatory native, and well, they've got plenty of that now.” She gestured to her own wound, then looked up again at Bobby. “I’m sorry, Bobby.”

Bobby shook his head and clasped the woman’s hand hard. “No, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

Eleanor was fading fast. “I’m sorry, really sor-”

“Tell us where they are,” Bobby pleaded. When there was no response, “El?”

Chrys winced as Bobby leaned forward to close Eleanor’s eyes. Before she could extend condolences, the sound of wings had her whirling to see Castiel behind Sam and Dean.

“I’m sorry this had to happen,” the angel began, his growly voice devoid of much emotion at all as Bobby stood up next to Chrys. “Crowley got carried away.”

“Yeah, I’ll just bet it was all Crowley,” Chrys snarled. She put a hand on Bobby’s arm to keep him from advancing. At this point, Cass could vaporize all of them and be done with it.

_ Dick. _

“You don’t even see it, do you?” Dean asked desperately, and Chrys’ heart ached for her best friend. “How totally off the rails you are?!”

“Enough!” There was plenty of emotion in Castiel’s voice now, anger and frustration and fear.

“I don’t care what you think.” Chrys snorted at the angel’s statement, but he ignored her. “I’ve tried to make you understand. You won’t listen. So let me make this simple. Please, go home and let me stop Raphael. I won't ask again.”

“Well, good,” Dean said softly. “‘Cause I think you already know the answer.”

Castiel shook his head. “I wish it hadn't come to this. Well, rest assured, when this is all over, I will save Sam, but only if you stand down.”

Chrys’s blood ran cold.  _ “What?” _

Castiel leaned forward, faster than anyone could blink, and touched Sam’s temple.

It felt like the scream that Sam let loose shaved years off of Chrys’ life.

***

Dean watched Chrys gently smooth the hair from Sam’s slack, sweaty face, and felt another wave of fury and hopelessness wash over him.

God dammit, hadn’t Chrys been through enough? Didn’t she and Sam deserve some sort of peace, more than a few day’s worth, after their little “let’s braid our hair and talk about our feelings”  _ whatever _ that had been a week ago?

Dean was  _ livid. _ He was so angry he could barely see straight. He was angry on Sam’s behalf, his own behalf, Bobby’s, and especially Chrys’, who had always gotten the short end of the stick. Chrys, who had only a vague shadow of happiness for a year before that, too, got tainted by Lucifer and demons and hunting.

Fucking Cass.

“We can’t just sit here,” Dean snarled as Bobby came back into the panic room, where they had put Sam on the cot. “We’ve gotta help him.”

Bobby sighed. “Dean.”

Dean perked up. “We could dreamscape his noggin, you know. Or something.”

“You know what Cass did,” Bobby said, not unkindly. “The dam inside your brother’s head is gone, and all hell’s spilling loose. Literally. We don’t know what’s going on inside.”

“I don’t care!” Dean snapped, helpless to stop the way his voice was raising. “We’ve got to do something!”

“Go find Castiel.”

Chrys’s cold, soft voice cut into Dean’s rising hysteria, and he looked over to see that she hadn’t moved. She was sitting on the cot next to Sam, running her hand through his hair, periodically wiping his face with a cold cloth. “Uh…”

“Go find him, and stop him.” She raised her eyes to his, and he felt a little shiver of trepidation at the way they somehow managed to be lifeless and fiery with passion at the same time.

“Go find him, and you bring that motherfucker back to me so I can hurt him.”

***

A little over an hour after Dean and Bobby had stepped upstairs to discuss plans, Chrys stretched to lie down next to Sam on the cot. She rested her head on his chest to listen to his heart, to reassure herself that he was still there, alive next to her. It was a moment of weakness, but no one else was there to see it, so she gave in.

As she lie there, she let the violent anger roll through her again.  _ How  _ dare _ he? _ She couldn’t believe the audacity of the angel.  _ The moment we don’t agree with him, and he… _

“I’m going to kill him,” she said easily, conversationally, to Sam, who didn’t react. “I said ‘hurt’ to Dean, but I think I really meant ‘kill.’ I’m going to kill him for this, handsome.” She patted his chest gently. “Hope you meant it when you said you were on board.”

***

Deep inside his head while fighting with the soulless incarnation of himself, Sam heard the melodic, low voice of his soulmate rumble through the woods.

_ I have to get back to Chrys. _

***

Much later, Chrys was wiping Sam’s face and neck with a cloth again when she heard more wings. She didn’t startle. “If that angel doesn’t have crazy black hair and blue eyes, I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

“Well, at least you mudfish finally got the angel-proofing right.” Balthazar’s voice cut through the silence of the panic room. “How's Sleeping Beauty? You didn't steal any kisses, I trust, Mrs. Winchester?”

Chrys didn’t turn to look at them, but listened to the conversation.

Dean was growling. “What the hell took you so long?”

“Honestly? I was having second thoughts.”

“About?”

The angel scoffed. “About whether to help you. I was thinking maybe... Maybe I should rip out your sticky bits instead.”

“And what did you decide?” Bobby sounded less than impressed with the threat.

There was a rustling of paper. “Cassie and Crowley are there. That's where the show gets started.”

“Alright,” Dean said evenly. “Well, give us a minute to pack up and then zap us there.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no. I don't think so.”

“Balthazar!” Dean protested.

“Shut it, Dean,” Chrys said softly. She finally turned to look at the blonde angel. “Thank you for your help.”

The angel nodded once, briefly, then disappeared.

***

Dean and Bobby had left, leaving Chrys to take care of Sam with a promise to call when he woke up.

She was gently running her hands through his hair, murmuring soothing nonsense, when he shot to a sitting position, damn near headbutting her as he did so.

“Fuck!” she yelped, catching herself on her hands as she fell back. She felt her eyes widen. “Sam? Oh, God, Sam? Are you all right?” She scrambled to her feet and framed his face in her hands. “Baby, talk to me, what happened?”

He took in a huge, shuddering breath, and it took a few moments to focus on her. “C… Chrys?”

She smiled a little. “Hi, handsome. Are you all right?”

He looked around and ignored her. “Where are Dean and Bobby?”

***

Chrys had Sam’s arm over her shoulders as she helped him into the warehouse where Bobby and Dean had tracked Castiel and Crowley to, where they intended to open up Purgatory. She had an angel blade on her hip, a gun in her holster, and a deep, soul-shaking fear in her heart.

Because she kept losing Sam to the hallucinations playing out before him. He would stop and his whole body would tense up. Soft whimpers sometimes escaped his throat before she was able to bring him back, and those times were the worst for Chrys. The distress clearly written on his features made her ache.

_ I am going to kill that fucking angel. _

They made their way slowly into the warehouse, and followed their ears to the room where the action was taking place. A wet explosion made Chrys’s heart beat harder, and it was only a few moments (and two more times of stopping so Sam could work through his hallucinations) until they came into the room with the others.

Dean’s voice was pleading. “You're full of nuke. It's not safe. So, before the eclipse ends, let's get them souls back to where they belong.”

From their vantage point, Chrys could see Castiel standing in front of Dean and Bobby. Even though she was furious with the angel, she could tell that he was different that something was off. Suddenly, what Dean was begging for made much more sense.

“Oh, no,” Cass said evenly, “they belong with me.”

Dean shook his head. “No, Cass, it’s, it… It’s scrambling your brain.”

“No, I’m not finished yet.” The angel’s voice was still serene and casual. “Raphael had many followers, and I must… Punish them, severely.”

Chrys let Sam lean against the corner, and briefly turned her eyes to him. She gently cupped his face in her hand, then leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek before turning and making her way toward Castiel. They had already discussed this, and Sam was aware he was in no condition to do anything but lean against the wall.

Besides, Chrys was just angry enough to want this kill for herself.

“Listen to me,” Dean was saying. “Listen, I know there's a lot of bad water under the bridge, but we were family once. I'd have died for you. I almost did a few times. So if that means anything to you... Please. I've lost Lisa, I've lost Ben, and now I've lost Sam. Don't make me lose you too. You don't need this kind of juice anymore, Cas. Get rid of it before it kills us all.”

Castiel sounded like he was smiling a little. “You're just saying that because I won. Because you're afraid.” Chrys readied her angel blade. “You're not my family, Dean. I have no family.”

Without further fanfare, Chrys twirled the blade, took her last step forward, and drove it through Castiel’s back. She felt no remorse, only anger, and the burning need to check on Sam again.

Unfortunately, nothing happened.

Castiel reached back and easily pulled the angel blade out of his back. He set it on one of the surgical tables next to him.

“I’m glad you made it, Chrysanthemum. Sam.” He turned to glance at her. “But the angel blade won't work, because I’m not an angel anymore.”

Chrys met Dean and Bobby’s wide-eyed stares respectively, then looked back toward castiel, who was still smirking, just a little.

“I’m your new God.” Chrys’ eyebrows shot to her hairline. “A better one,” Castiel continued. “So you  _ will _ bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord.” He met Chrys’ eyes. “Or I shall destroy you.”

Chrys stepped forward and tilted her chin up defiantly, keeping that crazy blue gaze locked with her own.

“Make me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Look! A chapter! A *long* chapter! It's like I'm a real, honest to Chuck fanfiction author. *whaaaaaaat*  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	48. He'll Come Back

_ “Chrys,” _ Dean hissed, horrified.

His honorary sister-in-law didn’t budge. “Come on, then,” her voice was like a whip through the warehouse. “You’re God now, make me bow down. Force me to worship you. You cool with me kneeling? Or will forehead to the carpet be more your gig?”

Cass tilted his head, and far from being the kind of quasi-cute angle it normally was, it was terrifying. “What a brave little ant you are. You truly believe that I cannot break you of this disobedience.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Chrys sneered. 

“Cass, come on,” Dean said, keeping his voice low and nonthreatening. “This isn’t you.”

Cass turned that icy blue gaze to Dean, and he felt the chills take an iron grip on his spine. “The Castiel you knew is gone.”

Dean frowned. “What are you, then?”

“I’m God.” Cass’ eyes were boring holes in Dean’s, but the hunter couldn’t bring himself to break eye contact first. “And if you stay in your place, you may live in my kingdom. If you rise up, I  _ will _ strike you down.” 

Cass turned to look at Sam, which made Dean’s heart ache fiercely. “Not doing so well, are you, Sam?”

Sam, who was clearly  _ not _ doing well, swallowed hard. “I’m, uh. I’m…” He cleared his throat harshly. “I’m fine.”

Chrys was staring daggers at Cass, and the fury there made Dean momentarily very glad that he wasn’t on the receiving end of that look. “You said you’d fix it,” she whispered, venom dripping from every syllable. “You  _ promised, _ even.”

“If you stood down, which you hardly did. Be thankful for my mercy.” Cass raised his eyebrows. “I could have cast you back into the pit.”

“Oh,  _ fuck you-” _ Chrys started to growl.

“Cass,” Dean interrupted, desperate to keep bloodshed at bay, “Come on, this is nuts! You can turn this around,  _ please.” _

“I hope for your sake this is the last you see me.”

***

“One, two, three,  _ now.” _

Chrys pushed her legs as hard as she could to straighten them. Dean’s ass was against hers, the heels of his feet pressed against hers, pushing as well. There was a screech of rending metal, and the roof of the Impala slowly moved back to as close as the original shape as was possible without tools.

Chrys groaned and rolled herself out of the car, wincing when her legs trembled. Dean was glaring at the roof like it was responsible for everything they’d gone through so far.

“So,” Bobby said from behind Chrys. “You fixin’ her or primal screamin’?”

Chrys took the offered beer with a smile. “Thanks, Bobby.”

Dean accepted his own bottle. “How’s Sam?”

“Still under. But alive.”

“What about God two-point-oh?” Chrys asked softly, a little nervous about the answer.

Bobby shrugged. “I got all kinds of feelers out. So far, diddly.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “And what exactly are you looking for?”

Another shrug. “Exactly. What? Miracles, mass visions, trench coat on a tortilla? I don't know  _ what _ I'm lookin' for.”

Dean shrugged. “Ah, well, he’ll surface.”

Chrys frowned. “Why are we even looking, again? There’s nothing we could do to stop him, even if we did find him.”   


“Convince him to fix Sammy,” Dean snarled.

Chrys rolled her eyes. “Dean, he’s not going to fix a damn thing. He had a chance, and he ignored it. Look, I mean, I’m not saying we give up on Cass completely, but there’s no point in trying to find him. He’ll come back.”

“I don’t even know what books to hit for this, boy,” Bobby said, as gently as Bobby ever said anything.

“Well, figure it out!” Dean shouted. At Bobby’s raised eyebrows and Chrys’s fierce scowl, he relented. “I'm sorry. This ain't in no book. If you stick your neck out, Cass steps on it. So you know what I'm gonna do?”

Chrys rolled her eyes as Bobby took the bait. “What?”

“I’m gonna fix this car. Because that's what I can do. I can work on her 'til she's mint. And when Sam wakes up, no matter what shape he's in, we'll glue him back together too. We owe him that.”

The last part tugged at Chrys’s heart. “We’re with you, Dean.”

***

Chrys was keeping a close eye on Sam, who she knew was lying to her, and to all of them. He kept insisting that he was fine, just a residual headache from having hell released in his skull. Chrys didn’t know why Sam thought they were all stupid, but it irritated her.

_ Fucking Sam and his fucking martyr complex- _

A news announcer’s voice interrupted her internal rant.

_ “The sudden deaths of some two hundred religious leaders are currently under investigation. The Vatican has yet to issue a statement, but some are already calling this an act of God.” _

The screen filled with the image of a woman being interviewed, quite literally clutching her pearls.  _ “We all saw him. No beard, no robe. He was young, and… And… Sexy. He had a raincoat.” _

Chrys snickered. “Get some, Cass.”

Dean reached forward and turned the TV off.

***

_ “Believed to be target hits high up in white supremacy organizations. The FBI now believes the Ku Klux Klan has been forced to disband.” _

Dean paused in his work on Baby long enough to snort a little. “Can’t argue with that one.”

***

Chrys followed Sam outside, unwilling to let him out of her sight for very long. They found Dean under the Impala’s hood, paused while he listened to the radio.

_ “A freak lightning strike on the heels of the fire that burned down the Center for Vibrational Enlightenment earlier today. Said a spokesman, ‘This tragedy represents the largest loss in New Age motivational speaker history.’” _

She heard the frown in Sam’s voice. “Motivational speakers?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I'm not sure new Cass gets irony any better than old Cass.” He turned back to his work. “Of course, old Cass wouldn't smite Madison Square Garden just to prove a point. He is off the deep end of the deep end. And there's no slowing down.”

Sam sighed. “So, what? Try to talk to him again?”

Dean cut him a look. “Sam.”

“Dean, all we can do is talk to the guy.”

“He’s not a guy,” Dean snarled, finally turning to face them. “He's God. And he's pissed. And when God gets righteous, you get the hell out of the way. Haven't you read the Bible?”

Chrys scoffed. “Please.”

“I guess…” Sam said hesitantly.

“Cas is never coming back. He's lied to us, he used us, he cracked your gourd like it was nothing. No more talk; we have spent enough on him.”

“Hey now,” Chrys interrupted. “That’s not how we do things.”

Dean pointed at her. “Fuck you, Summers. You’re just as angry as I am.”

She narrowed her eyes and stepped up so they were inches apart. “I’m angry, but we’re not  _ done _ with him.” Before he could protest, she went on. “Cass bit off more than he could chew, trying to fix a problem that no one else was seeing as a problem. You’re really telling me that neither of you can relate?” She looked back at Sam, who looked contrite, then at Dean again, who still just looked angry. “Well?”

Dean turned back to the car. “Hand me that socket wrench.”

Chrys did so with a smile.  _ Game, set, match. _

***

Sam lay with Chrys’ head on his chest, running his hand through her hair. He kind of missed the length it used to have, but he had to admit that this was easier to do now that it was short.

“So, are we gonna talk about it?”

He frowned up at the ceiling. “Talk about what?”

“About how you’re not okay.”

He froze, and immediately tried to relax himself, but he knew she’d felt it, and knew that it was as good as an admission of guilt. “I’m-”

“I swear to God, Sam,” Chrys said vehemently, “if the next word out of your mouth is ‘fine,’ I’ll hurt you.”

He sighed. “I’m… Working on it.”

She finally looked up at him, and he lost himself in her big blue eyes with relief. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He grinned. “Since when do you want to talk about anything?”

She glared. “Never, asshat, but you won’t talk about it to Bobby or Dean, and I just…” She took a deep breath. “I want to make sure you’re all right.”

He smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to her still frowning forehead. “I will be, I’ll figure it out.”

She looked unconvinced. “Whatever you say, handsome.”

***

Sam led Chrys down the stairs by her hand, savoring the way her soft skin grounded him against the hallucinations that constantly threatened to overwhelm him. When Lucifer was around the same time as Chrys, he tended to just stare at her. Even though Sam knew it wasn’t real, it was just in his head, it was disconcerting as hell.

As they approached the garage, Dean’s upset, strained voice halted Sam in his tracks, and he ignored Chrys’s irritated grumbling to listen in.

“No,” Dean was snarling. “You wanna know why? Because we never catch a break. So why would we this time? I just....” A scratchy noise, which meant his brother was scraping a hand down his face. “Just this one thing. You know? But I'm not dumb. I'm not going to get my hopes up just to get kicked in the daddy-pills again.”

Sam winced, pain constricting his entire chest.  _ Fuck. _ Dean was talking about him, about if he was all right, he knew it. He decided to keep the hallucinations to himself. Dean had enough to deal with, what with his best friend deciding to eat all the souls he could get his grubby, angelic hands on, and subsequently deciding to be God, with a capital “G.”

Yeah, Sam’s problems could wait.

He strode into the garage, startling both Dean and Bobby. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Bobby returned cautiously. “How are you feelin’, sport?”

Sam plastered the most sincere smile possible on his face. It helped that Chrys had moved to stand next to him, and had pushed her hand up under his shirts so she could rub comforting circles onto her lower back. He’d never loved her more. “Can’t complain.”

“Great. What’s the word?”

Sam nodded, his mind returning to the reason he’d come to the garage. “Well, a publishing house literally exploded about an hour ago. The guy has a body count that's really getting up there. We gotta do something.”

Bobby huffed. “What we've got to do is hunt the son of bitch. Unfortunately, I lost my God guns.”

“Well, I mean is there some kind of heavenly weapon? Maybe something out of that angel arsenal that Balthazar stole? There has to be something that can hurt him.” Sam really hated talking about Cass like that, but something  _ had _ to be done.

“He’s God, Sam.” Dean looked thoughtful, though. “There's nothing, but there might be someone.”

***

“Can I just say,  _ again, _ how stupid this is?”

Chrys glared at Dean as he rolled his eyes.  _ “Yes, _ we get it, you think the plan is stupid.”

“Not just stupid, you’re not giving yourself enough credit. I think it’s  _ colossally, intensely _ stupid.” She smiled sweetly. “Just so we’re clear.”

“Fuck off, Summers.”

She decided to ignore him, and turned to the wealthy couple they had tied up and gagged in their own living room, which,  _ rude. _ “I am so sorry,” she said softly, sincerely. “I just… I assure you we’re not here to hurt you.”

“Yeah,” Dean said jovially. “Chrys only cuts with her words.”

Chrys rolled her eyes and flipped him off, only to hide it quickly when Bobby came in the room. 

He scowled at both of them. “Can we just do this, please?”

***

“Fried pickle chip? They're the best in the state.”

Chrys had  _ known _ this was a bad fucking idea.

Death stared at Dean impassively. “That easy to soothe me, you think? This is about Sam's hallucinations, I assume?”

Dean blanched. “What?”

Death ignored him to look at the taller Winchester. “Sorry, Sam. One wall per customer. Now unbind me.”

“We can’t. Y-yet,” Sam stammered.

“This isn’t going to end well.” Death intoned. Chrys agreed.

“We need you to kill God.”

That brought Death up short. “Pardon?”

“Kill God, you heard right,” Bobby said gruffly. “Your… Honor?”

“What makes you think I can do that?”   


Dean frowned. “You told me.”

Death cocked an eyebrow, and Chrys had a feeling they were all going to die and Cass was going to burn the world down.  _ Fuck. _

“Because… We said so? And we’re the boss of you?”

_ “Jesus, _ Winchester,” Chrys groaned. “Are you trying to get us smote?”

“I mean…” he stuttered. “Respectfully.”

“Amazing.”

Chrys whirled to see Castiel standing behind them, a blank look on his face. “Cass,” she breathed out, panic bubbling up inside her.

“I didn’t want to kill you, but now…”   


Dean shook his head. “You can't kill us.”   
  
“You've erased any nostalgia I had for you, Dean.” Chrys winced at the angel’s words.  _ Ouch. _   
  
“Death is our bitch. We ain't gonna die, even if God pulls the trigger.”

Death sighed heavily and met Castiel’s eyes. “Annoying little protozoa, aren't they?” At the ensuing silence, he tilted his head. “‘God?’ You look awfully like a mutated angel to me. Your vessel's melting. You're going to explode.” Chrys’ eyebrows rose.

“No, I’m not. When I’ve finished my work, I’ll repair myself.”

Death chuckled, and Chrys had never been more terrified of a sound in her life.  _ Well, almost. _

“You think you can because you think you're simply under the weight of all those souls, yes? But that's not the worst problem. There are things much older than souls in purgatory, and you gulped those in, too.”

Cass shook his head dismissively. “Irrelevant. I control them.”

“For the moment.”

Chrys was frowning. “Older things?”

Death nodded, and there was approval in his eyes when he looked at her. “Very good, Chrys, yes. Long before God created angels and man, he made the first beasts.” A pregnant pause. “The Leviathans.”

The word sent more chills up and down Chrys’ spine. “Leviathans?”

Death shrugged. “I personally found them entertaining, but he was concerned they'd chomp the entire petri dish, so he locked them away. Why do you think he created purgatory? To keep those clever, poisonous things out. Now Castiel has swallowed them. He's the one thin membrane between the old ones and your home.”

“Well, fuck.” She couldn’t sum it up any other way. 

“Enough,” Castiel snapped.   


Death seemed amused. “Stupid little soldier, you are.”

“Why? Because I dared open a door that he shut? Where is he? I did a service, taking his place.”

“Service? Settling petty vendettas?”

“No. I’m cleaning up one mess after another.  _ Selflessly.” _

Chrys snorted at the same time that Death shook his head. “Quite the humanitarian.”

“And how would you know?” Cass sneered. “What are you, really? A flyswatter?”

“Destined to swat you, I think.” Death was  _ definitely _ enjoying this conversation more than Chrys was strictly comfortable with. She met Sam’s wide eyes, and saw her fear reflected there, too.

“Unless I take you first.”

Death outright chuckled. “Really bought his own press, this one. Please, Cass. I know God, and you, sir, are no God.”

Dean had had enough, apparently. “All right, put your junk away, both of you.” He looked at Death. “Look, call him what you want. Just kill him now!”

Death stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably about a second. “All right. Fine.”

Cass snapped his fingers, and the binding was gone. Death was free. He smiled at the angel. “Thank you. Shall we kickbox now?” When Castiel just stared at him, another chilling smile crossed Death’s face. “I had a tingle I’d be reaping someone very, very soon.”

Dean started to back away, reaching a hand out to grab Chrys’ and drag her with him. 

“Don’t worry, not  _ you.” _ Death started to eat the pickle chips, and Chrys wondered what her life had become.

Without warning, Castiel disappeared. Death didn’t even flinch. “Well, he was in a hurry.”

_ That… Did not go to plan. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I don't have an excuse for the wait. I'm sorry.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	49. I'm Right Here

Chrys watched with a sense of soupy surrealism as Death sat down in one of the ornate chairs in the room, the bag of pickle chips that Dean had brought with them cradled in his hands. He pulled one out, popped one in his mouth, and sighed with satisfaction. “Ahh.”

Dean cleared his throat a little bit. “Um…”

“Shut up, Dean. I'm not here to tie your shoes every time you trip. I warned you about those souls how long ago? Long enough to stop that fool.” He put the bag on the side table next to his chair and wiped his hands. “And here we are again, with your little planet on the edge of immolation.”

She could see that Dean was frustrated, so Chrys spoke before he could. “Look, I understand your frustration, I really do, especially with the Winchesters.” She ignored Sam’s indignant noise from next to her. “But is there anything you can give us at all? I mean, if only to stick it to Cass,” she added helpfully, because she, herself, was struck with the intense desire to find a way to tell Castiel to stuff it without getting smote.

“Hmm… I _do_ find that little angel arrogant.”

“Great!” Dean said brightly. “Let’s go with that.”

“Your only hope is to have him return it all to Purgatory. Quickly.”

Sam frowned. “We need a door.”

“You have everything you need at that lab. Get him to return there and compel him to give up the power.”

“Compel?” Chrys asked.

Death shrugged. “Figure it out.”

“But that door only opens on the eclipse,” Bobby said slowly, still being carefully respectful, “and that’s over.”

“I'll make another. Three fifty-nine, Sunday morning, just before dawn. Be punctual.” Dean opened his mouth, and Death held up a hand to stop him. “Don't thank me. Clean up your mess.”

They watched the horseman walk away before he stopped, not turning around to look at them. “Try to bind me again, you'll die before you start.” Then, he did turn. “Nice pickle chips, by the way, and it’s good to see you again, Chrysanthemum.” Then he was gone.

Chrys blinked, then sighed. “I hate being singled out.”

***

Chrys felt her eyebrows raise as she watched Dean knock back a whiskey. “You want some coffee with that?” she asked as she walked in with Sam trailing behind her.

Dean shrugged, not meeting her gaze. “It’s six p.m. somewhere.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. We gotta hit the road, and figure out a way to get Cass to that lab by _three fifty-nine a.m.”_ She sneered the last words, bravado born from the fear they wouldn’t be able to do it, and the fact that Death wasn’t here to hear her mock him.

Dean shook his head. “We can’t.”

“What do you mean, ‘we can’t?’” Sam spluttered indignantly.

“I mean,” the eldest Winchester snapped, “we can’t bring the horse to water, and we can’t make it drink. Why fool ourselves?”

Chrys rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease. Like you could let an apocalypse lie if your life depended on it.”

“Well, it might depend on it now.”

“Can the ‘poor me’ crap, Dean,” Chrys snapped. “We need you with us on this one.”

“Dean, look,” Sam started, ever the gentler one, “I know you think that Cass is gone-”

“It’s ‘cause he is,” Dean said with forced ease.

“Well, he might not be,” Chrys mused.

“He’s not!” Sam insisted. “He’s in there somewhere, guys, I know it.”

Dean snorted. “No, you don’t.”

Sam sighed and his shoulders slumped. “No, I don’t. But, look, I was pretty far gone sometimes myself, and you guys never gave up on me.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded and reached for the bottle. Chrys snatched it away and held it out of his reach. “And it turns out you’re about the same open book that you’ve always been,” Dean continued, glaring at Chrys. She met his gaze head on. After a moment’s showdown, Dean turned his gaze to Sam. “Hallucinations? Really? I gotta find out from _Death?”_

“What was I supposed to do?” Chrys winced at Sam’s question. _Stupid._

“How about not lie?” Dean asked lightly. “How about tell me that you’ve got crazy shit climbing those walls. Chrys, give me the goddamn bottle.”

“No,” she said, easy.

“Why would I tell you, Dean?” Sam ignored their bickering. “You can’t help. You got a lot of pretty severe shit swinging your way lately, and, and I thought… What? I thought why burst the one good bubble you had left? It’s under control.”

“What?” Dean snapped. “What, exactly, is under control?”

“I know what's real and what's not.”

“Gentlemen, let’s argue about this once we deal with the angel, shall we?” Chrys suggested hopefully.

Dean smiled coldly. “Yeah, you know how I’m gonna deal? I’m gonna stuff my piehole, I’m gonna drink as soon as you give me _my_ whiskey back, and I’m gonna watch some Asian cartoon porn and act like the world’s about to explode, because it is.”

He turned back to his laptop and made a grabby hand at chrys for his bottle. She ignored it and almost turned to walk about before he spoke again. _“Hey._ You gotta be kidding me.” Now he beckoned them with two fingers.

They both came to stand behind him. On the screen was a news website, and Dean read the title off from the top. _“‘Massacare at the campaign office of an incumbent Senator by a trench-coated man.’_ There’s security footage.” Dean clicked on the video, and they watched as Cass did, in fact, slaughter everyone standing in the Senator’s office.

“Well, I think reaching Cass is, uh… Out of the cards,” Dean deadpanned.

***

Chrys was sitting across from Dean, eyes closed and leaned back in her chair, after Sam went outside. She had her suspicions that her lover was going to pray to Castiel, but she didn’t have a lot of faith that it would work.

Of course, Chrys didn’t have a lot of faith in anything these days.

“Dean,” she said evenly, keeping her eyes closed, “if you don’t shut that goddamn porn off, I’m going to find a way to shove that laptop inside of you.” The click of the computer closing was the response she got. She laughed softly.

The sound of Sam coming back in made her smile and look up. “Hey, handsome.”

He pointed to the tumbler in her hand. “Is there one of those for me?”

She nodded, and was sitting up to take the whiskey bottle from Dean (she’d given up quick after they’d had to watch the angel kill an entire building of people) when a rough, gravelly voice stopped her.

“Sam.”

She whipped around to see Castiel standing in the doorway. He was covered in blood, and looked like he was having trouble focusing. She was up out of her chair before she could fully process what was happening.

“Cass,” Sam breathed as Chrys was pulling Cass’ arm over her shoulder and supporting some of his weight for him.

“I heard your call,” Cass said slowly, like forming the words was difficult. “I need help.”

***

Chrys thought that the plan they were currently working on was bad, too, but since it was their only plan, she kept that to herself.

She managed to help Dean haul Cass, who was in and out of consciousness, down into the basement where the door to Purgatory would open. When he did pull out of his stupor long enough to speak, it was mostly apologizing to Dean. Since he’d done the most damage to Sam, Chrys was a little irritated that the older brother was taking priority, but she kept her mouth shut about that, too. There would be time later to bitch at them.

See? She could grow.

She helped Dean sit Cas on the ground, since there was nowhere else to put him. The angel looked up at her through bleary blue eyes that still reminded her too much of her own.

“We need the right blood,” he slurred. “There’s a small jar, end of the hall. Supply closet.”

She nodded, then looked up at Sam. “Let’s go, handsome.”

***

Sam followed her back to the basement, blood in hand, and Chrys thought about how fucked all of this was. She wondered idly if she’d be able to convince Sam to take a weekend off once the souls were back in Purgatory. There were still nude beaches she needed to fuck him on.

Her musings were cut short by Sam’s tight, scared voice. “You're not here. You're in hell.”

She turned and frowned. He’d stopped several feet behind her. “What? Sam, what are you talking about?”

His eyes were moving, like they were trained on something, but nothing was there. His next words sent chills skittering down her spine.

“Meat hooks... Chains... You. It's not real. It's just my brain leaking memories from the cage 'cause of the wall breaking down. That's all.”

Realization washed through her, and she stepped to him quickly, cupping his face with her free hand. His frantic eyes met hers, and she tried to steady her breathing, hoping he would subconsciously mirror it.

“Sam,” she said softly. “Stay with me, okay? He’s not real. You’re out of there. You’re with me, remember?”

“With… Yeah, I’m with you.”

She smiled. “There you go. He’s just a hallucination, Sam, he’s _nothing._ You and me, that’s what’s real, yeah?”

He nodded. “Right, right… You and me.”

She leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I love you,” she murmured. “I’m right here.”

He was still trembling faintly, like he was trying to block out whatever his hallucination was. Chrys frowned, anger starting to build in her heart.

She leaned back and looked to where his eyes were, then turned to that exact spot.

“Lucifer, do me a favor and shut the _fuck_ up.”

Before she could check to see if that had worked, or if she’d just made a fool of herself, Dean came into the hallway. “C?” he asked warily. “C, we need the blood.”

She reached out and handed it over. “Here, take it, Sam and I have some stuff to deal with.”

 _“Now?”_ he asked incredulously.

She rolled her eyes. “Dean, you think if I could deal with it some other time, I would choose to do it right now? _Yes_ now.”

 _“Fine,”_ he snapped, snatching the jar from her hand. “I’ll be back to help in a second.” His voice had gentled at the second part, so Chrys let it go as he walked away so she could focus on Sam again.

“Sammy?” she said softly, running a hand through his long hair. “Sam, are you with me?”

It took a second for his eyes to focus on her, but he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m with you.”

She nodded back. “Good, that’s good. Okay, listen to me Sam, I’ve got some experiences with hallucinations from hell, okay?” She made sure he was still paying attention to her. “As long as I’m here, he can’t hurt you, okay? He’s not real, and he cannot physically attack you as long as I’m here. Do you hear me, Sam? I’m right here, and he can’t get to you.”

His responding nod was shaky at best, but she was willing to count her wins where she could get them. “Right, not as long as you’re here.”

She smiled. “Damn right.” Before he could respond, the building started to shake, and a powerful howling sound came from the hallway where Dean had gone back down.

Chrys whirled to look down that hallway, then blinked. Nerves tightened her chest and made her next words come out in a bit of a croak.

“The door. They’re opening the door to Purgatory.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I'm so sorry this took so long. The usual reasons (read: excuses) stand. Depression, anxiety, blah, blah, blah. I'm working on them, though, and updates should, fingers crossed, be more frequent.  
> **I love you guys. Thanks for sticking with me.  
> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	50. Too Late

Chrys ran back to the room where the others were, listening closely for Sam’s heavy, almost hesitant footsteps behind her. She was worried about him, and she was sure that the hallucinations he’d been experiencing weren’t even close to being over, but she pushed through her concern and fear to get to Dean and Bobby. She was going to have to prioritize.

She almost skidded to a stop when she got back to the room they’d left the others in, her wide blue eyes taking in Cass lying on his back on the floor, flanked by Dean and Bobby. Dean was speaking, voice loud and urgent. “Is he breathing?”   


Bobby held a hand in front of Cass’ face. “No.”

“Maybe angels don’t need to breathe.” The gentle desperation in Dean’s voice broke Chrys’ heart. 

Bobby’s, too, apparently. “He’s gone, Dean.” It was the same tone of voice he’d used to tell Chrys that she could stay with him after the apocalypse that wasn’t.  _ We undervalue Bobby sometimes, _ she thought semi-hysterically.

Dean’s head bowed.  _ “Damn _ it, Cass,” he snarled. “You  _ child. _ Why didn’t you  _ listen _ to me?”

Even as he spoke, the angel’s chest heaved, and blue eyes opened to look around wildly.  Chrys hurried forward to fall to her knees beside Dean as his hands fluttered over Cass. “Woah, hey! Hey, Cass, okay, all right, you’re all right,” he was murmuring.

Cass winced. “That was… Unpleasant.”

Chrys was already moving. “Come on, let’s get you up.”

Dean helped her pull the angel to his feet. “Easy, easy.”

Cass blinked. “I’m alive.”

“Looks like,” Bobby said gruffly.

“I’m astonished.” Castiel met each of their gazes individually. “Thank you. All of you.”

Chrys rolled her eyes. “Just trying to save the world, flyboy, don’t get flattered.”

Cass hung his head. “I am ashamed. I really… Overreached.”

Dean snorted. “Ya think?”   


Cass looked up at Dean, his blue eyes burning. “I’m going to find some way to redeem myself to you.”

Dean looked away. “All right, well, one thing at a time. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

“I mean it, Dean.”

“Okay, all right. Let’s just get-”

Castiel convulsed, tearing himself away from their combined grasp. Chrys tried to grapple with him, but the angel was backing away. “You need to run!  _ Now!” _

“Cass-” she started.

“I can’t hold them back!”

Dean was frowning, refusing to back away. He met Chrys’ eyes briefly before looking back to Castiel. “Hold who back?”

“They held on inside me.” Cass’ pained gaze landed on Dean. “Dean, they’re so strong.” The agony in his voice actually sent a bolt of sympathy through Chrys’ chest.

Dean was scowling.  _ “Who?” _

_ “Leviathan!” _ Cass roared. “I can’t fight them.  _ Run!” _

Chrys grabbed Dean and started to drag him through the door. “Come on! Let’s go!  _ Dean!” _

Cass straightened up, and his entire demeanor was different. Chrys’ blood was frozen in her veins when he looked her way. “Too late,” he said, his voice lilting, taunting.

“... Cass?” Dean asked, timid.

“Cass is… He’s gone. Dead.” The thing wearing Jimmy Novak grinned a blood-curdling grin. “We run the show now. This is going to be  _ so much fun.” _

Chrys watched in horror as huge black veins started to spread across Castiel’s face and neck. The thing started to pace. As it did, the big veins pulsed in time with his steps. She noticed the thing’s smile was fading, and there was black goo dripping from it’s hand, and starting to run down it’s face from it’s hairline.

She smirked. “Oh, how many of you ass-clowns are in there? A hundred? More?” When it turned to look at her, she grinned. “Your vessel is about to explode, isn’t it? I wouldn’t do anything  _ too _ crazy if I were you. In fact, I might even consider calling it a day, heading on home.”   


It seemed to be glaring at her, but Chrys was distracted by the way the goo seemed to be clouding over Cass’ right eye, covering the blue in black. “We’ll be back. For you.”

Chrys watched as it shuffled out the door, kind of at a loss for what to do. She turned to look at the others, but they were all looking at the door, too.

“Well, that’s a new one,” Bobby said dryly.

* * *

“You’re still in the cell with me, Sammy,” Lucifer crooned in his ear. “You think this is reality? Please. We’re  _ bunkmates, _ buddy.” Sam tried desperately to focus on the situation at hand and not the devil’s whispers.

“Shit, we have to follow him,” Dean said roughly, starting to stride toward the door. 

Sam wanted to follow, he really did. He wanted to stand with his brother against everything, and if this really was the loss of Castiel, Dean was going to  _ need _ someone to be there for him.

Before he could move, however, Lucifer was standing in front of him. Sam flinched, and stared at he was desperately hoping was a hallucination in horror. The way his heart was pounding certainly wasn’t imagined, though, and he started to fear that Lucifer wasn’t, either.

He had opened his mouth to beg the fallen archangel to leave again when the image dissipated around Chrys, who had stepped in exactly the space Lucifer had occupied. The glow of her eyes told him that she knew what she’d done, and Sam took another moment to be insanely grateful that this woman was in his life.

“Hey, handsome,” she said softly, her low voice soothing in its suredness. “We gotta follow Cass, you with me?”

He nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m with you.” He let her wrap his fingers in her slim ones and lead him out the door, after Dean and Bobby.

* * *

Chrys’ stomach sank when Cass’ head went below the water in the reservoir. Black, glowing swirls exploded from the spot, then spread through the water and slowly disappeared. Cass stayed down.

_ “Shit,” _ she whispered with feeling.

Bobby nodded. “You said it. Those… Whatever you call ‘ems…”

“Leviathan,” Sam provided.

Another nod. “Right. If they’re in the pipes, they got themselves a highway to anywhere.

Dean leaned down and picked up Castiel’s trenchcoat, which had floated to the edge of the reservoir. He stared down at it sadly, making Chrys’ heart ache fiercely.  _ Oh, Dean. _

“Okay,” Dean finally said softly. “So he’s gone.”

“Rest in peace,” Chrys responded, then stopped and frowned. “If that’s even in the cards.”

Dean shook his head. “Dumb son of a bitch.”

Bobby shrugged. “Well, he was friends with us, wasn’t he? Can’t get much dumber than that. Come on, those things will be coming up for air soon.”

* * *

Sam woke up to dual voices summoning him.

“Hey,” Lucifer said cheerfully. “Wake up, sunshine! Up and at ‘em, atom man!”

“Sam,” Chrys’ soothing voice murmured, her soft hand running through his hair and caressing his cheek. “Sam, baby, I need you to wake up for me.”

He started awake, staring around wildly until he landed on Chrys’ pretty face. Lucifer sat behind her, but Sam worked to ignore him. He tried to get lost in Chrys’ concerned eyes, instead.

“Hey, handsome,” she said softly, a smile on her face. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” he responded promptly. He took a deep inhale to steady himself, then looked back up at her in surprise. “Did you make breakfast?”

She chuckled and took his hand to wrap it around a warm mug. “I even brought you some in bed. Don’t get used to it, I’m not this nice.” She gently took his other hand, which he realized with a frown was wrapped in gauze. “Let’s check on this, yeah?”

She started unwrapping the bandage as he asked, “What… What the hell is that?”

She didn’t even pause in her ministrations. “You fell yesterday, when we were in the warehouse. I stitched you up while you were asleep.” She looked up to smile at him. “You were pretty out of it, hot stuff.”

Sam digested this for a moment, then nodded. “I must have been.” He took a sip of the coffee she’d handed him, unsurprised when it was perfect.

“Mm, mm, mm,” Lucifer hummed. “Look at  _ her. _ She really is perfect for us, isn’t she Sammy?”

“So, ooze invasion,” Sam said, just a little too loud. “Any leads?”

“We got feelers out,” Dean said as he entered the living room. He handed Chrys a new swathe of gauze without her having to ask.

“Whatever they’re up to,” Bobby was right on Dean’s heels as they walked in, “it ain’t about going Mothra down Main Street. They’ll turn up.”

Sam winced when Chrys smeared disinfectant on his hand, and had the presence of mind to be dimly grateful that it wasn’t Dean patching him up. Not that Dean had ever done a bad job, but Sam wasn’t a big fan of using whiskey as a medical tool.

“Now,” his brother said decisively, “On to bigger problems. How are you doing?” Sam opened his mouth, and Dean pointed at him sternly. “And do  _ not _ say okay.”

Sam considered, then shrugged. “I’m not okay.”

Lucifer snorted. “Damn right.”   
  
“You think?” Dean snapped.

“Hey, go a little easy,” Bobby protested.

“There’s nothing  _ easy _ about it! We acted like he had everything under control.”   


“I’m sorry,” Sam said softly. He was. “Look, I just didn’t want to crack up, you know?”

“What the hell even happened back there?”   


“Sam is hallucinating,” Chrys, who had been suspiciously silent, said evenly. “We’re working on it.”

“Oh, baby, she can work on  _ me,” _ Lucifer purred.

_ “Hallucinating?” _ Dean snarled. “What the fuck does that even  _ mean?” _

“What does the word ‘hallucinating’ usually mean to you?” Chrys asked, still even and calm, refusing to rise to the bait.

“I’m… Having a difficult time figuring out what’s real.” Sam was hesitant to admit it out loud, but Chrys’ steady presence helped to ground him.

“If you’re tripping Hell’s Bells, why would you hide that?”

Sam shook his head. “I wasn’t hiding it, Dean. I… I was just not talking about it. I mean, it seemed like we had enough going on as it was. Look, I, I just figured, try to hold onto the safety bar and ride  it out, you know? But it’s… Getting more specific.”

Now Chrys turned to look at him, too, though her eyes were still serene and nonjudgmental. “Specific as in what?”

“He, ah…” Lucifer was looking at him gleefully, which was distracting as.. Well, distracting as hell. “He’s telling me that none of this is real. That he let me believe that I got out, and this is all another form of torture.”

Sympathy welled in Chrys’ eyes, along with what looked suspiciously like tears. “Oh, Sam.”

“Well, how the hell are we supposed to argue with that?” Dean groused.

Sam nodded. “I know. It’s a problem.”

“Well, why would the devil holodeck you a whole new life when he could just… Kick your ass all over the cage?” Bobby asked, trying to be reasonable.

“‘Cause, as he puts it,” Sam tried not to flinch when Lucifer joined him word for word, “You can’t torture someone who has nothing left for you to take away.”

Lucifer beamed. “Very good, Sam.”

“Hey,” Chrys’ voice had him turning to look at her. She met his eyes with the same graceful calm she’d had all morning, but there was a spark of fierceness in her now. She cupped his face with her hands. “You remember what we said in that warehouse?”

Sam nodded, clinging to her like a lifeline. “I’m out, I’m here, with you.”

She smirked. “Damn right you’re with me. Don’t listen to that motherfucker, Sam. I already told you, he doesn’t get you anymore. You’re mine now.”

* * *

Chrys watched Sam take his gun apart for the fifth time, knowing that putting it back together would be the next step. Her heart felt hollow with worry, and if she’d ever thought she hated Lucifer as much as she could, she knew she hated him more now. When the devil had been fucking with her it had been one thing, but what had Sam ever done to deserve any of this?

Dean came to stand next to her, also staring at Sam. Bobby was already on her other side.

“Well, at least he’s not curled up under the sink,” Bobby said thoughtfully.

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, no, he’s just sitting there, silently field stripping his weapon.”

Chrys turned to look at the eldest Winchester as Bobby wandered into the living room to boot up his computer. “And how are  _ you _ doing?”

“It ain’t like he’s hexed, you know?” he said softly. “I mean, what if it’s the kind of crazy we can’t fix?”

“That’s not what I asked, Dean.” She would not be deterred. “How are  _ you?” _

Dean rolled his eyes. “Who cares? Don’t you think our mailbox is a little full right now?” At her continued stare, “I’m fine.”

_ “Right,” _ she drawled sarcastically. “And you didn’t just lose the best friend you’ve ever had, your brother’s  _ not _ on a one-way track to whackadoo town, and purgatory’s most wanted  _ aren’t _ surfing the sewer lines. Yeah, you’re fine.”

Dean nodded. “Good.”

She glared. “Lie to me again, Winchester, see what I dislocate.”

Dean looked at her for a long, long moment. Chrys knew she was taking a risk here. Dean had some sort of doctorate in being a closed-off person. She was kind of worried that, should he actually express an emotion that wasn’t anger or horniness, that he’d pop a blood vessel.

But he finally nodded. “I’m like shit, Chrys,” he said, soft and rough and raw, “but I can’t stop to fix it now. We gotta… We gotta fix everything else first.”

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms tight around his neck. “Hey, you ever need to, I’m right here, okay? You’re important, too, Dean,” she whispered in her ear.

He hugged her back fiercely for a moment, then leaned back and smirked. Chrys marvelled that she could see him building his walls back up. “What, you wanna do couples’ yoga?”

“Shut up, ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	51. What If I Can't Trust You?

Chrys sat in a sun-dappled kitchen, sipping on coffee, leaned back against the wall with her feet in Sam’s lap. His big hand was on her ankle as he scanned the news website, and she spent a brief moment wishing vehemently that their lives were as peaceful as this scene presented them as.

Unfortunately, Sam’s eyes were darting between the laptop screen, herself, and something in the corner, and she knew she was going to be screwed out of a good morning of daydreaming.

She leaned forward to cup a hand around Sam’s neck to bring him close to her. She let her lips brush his ear. “Hey, you know he’s not real. I’m real, you’re real, he’s not, okay?”

Sam inhaled sharply and closed his eyes. “I know, I know,” he said softly. “He’s just… Persuasive.”

Bobby came in and grumbled at them, headed straight for the coffee cup. “Goddamn kids, canoodlin’ in my kitchen, can’t catch no goddamn peace around here anymore-“

His grumpiness brought a smile to Sam’s face, which brought a smile to Chrys’. Her heart ached with the love that she had for these men. Just a couple of years ago, she’d been so adrift, so desperately alone, and now she was in a home with three people she’d die for without batting an eyelash.

Life was weird.

***

A few hours later, Chrys and Sam had hardly moved.

She was flipping through a lore book, looking for information on leviathans. There was diddly squat so far, but she figured it was worth a shot.

She was also unwilling to leave Sam to his own devices. As the day wore on, Sam was becoming harder and harder to bring back to her. She was determined not to let Lucifer have him, hallucination or no, but she was terrified she’d already lost.

It had made for a stressful morning.

Dean, who’d gone into town for groceries, came banging back in, still trying and failing to look cheerful. “How’s it hangin, kids?”

“Bad news,” Sam said, not looking up from his computer screen. “Stockville, in north Kansas, most of a high school swim team got mangled to death in their locker room.”

Bobby, who was walking back into the kitchen, nodded. “Cop talk on the wire’s kind of garbled, saying it looks like some kind of wild animal attack. They’re saying whatever attacked them’s about the size of a linebacker.”

Dean looked skeptical, and Chrys rolled her eyes. “It’s a  _ lead, _ Dean.”

The older Winchester sighed and scrubbed his face hard with his palm. “All right.” He pointed at Sam. “But if you think you’re going out on a hunt-“

“No, I know,” Sam interrupted evenly. “But you are. Look, Bobby’s running the hub, I’m… I’m fifty-one-fifty’d, and I kinda need Chrys here. Which leaves you to follow this thing up.”

Dean glared. “Sam, you’re in the middle of a psychotic break.”

Chrys glared back at Dean. “And I’m right here, slow your roll.”

“C,” he said pleadingly. “Come on.”

“Go,” Bobby said imperiously, and Chrys was, once again, grateful for the older hunter. “We can eyeball the kid. Work off some of those nerves on something useful.”

Dean took a moment to stare at each one of them hard. All of them met his gaze head on.

He sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat.  _ “Fine.” _

***

Later that night, while Chrys was in the shower, Sam was struggling.

_ Should have gone with her, _ he thought ruefully.

Instead, he was sitting in Bobby’s living room, clinging to his sanity and trying to ignore Lucifer, who was reading a newspaper at the kitchen table.

_ How is this my life? _ The thought was a little bit hysterical.

When his cell phone rang, he lunged for it, almost embarrassingly grateful for the distraction. “Yeah?”

“Well, we are positive for ick,” Dean said grimly. “Same kind of stuff that came out of Cass. And, uh, two of the swim kids are missing. They stole one of their parents’ cars.”

“You know,” Lucifer said from the table, “I really think Prince William has found the right girl. What do you think?”

Sam closed his eyes and spoke into the phone. “So you think these, um, these leviathan things just jump into people? Like Eve did?”

“I don’t know, it makes sense, right? Anyway, uh, state trooper’s got surveillance cam on the kids about six hours old, of them gassing up just south of Dakota line, so I’m headed back your way. We’ll just track them from Bobby’s.”

“Sounds good.”

“How, uh… How are you doing?”

Sam looks over at Lucifer. “Uh, okay.”

“Well, hang in there, all right?”

As soon as they hang up, Lucifer slams the newspaper down indignantly. “Just  _ okay? _ Man, I’m having a great day.”

***

Chrys leaned against the tiled wall of the shower and let the hot water beat against her skin. She ran her hands through her hair and rubbed her face hard.

The last few days had been hard. Trying to keep up with Sam, trying to make sure he knew what was real and what wasn’t, and trying to make sure that Dean wasn’t cracking under the pressure, it was all so  _ exhausting. _ She knew she wouldn’t trade it for anything, but that didn’t make it any less difficult.

As she watched the water swirl down the drain, she let her fear overtake her for a moment. Her fear that she was losing her soulmate. Sam was further and further away from her, and as much as she wanted to fight it with pure force of will, she knew that it might be a losing battle. She could talk a big game as much as she wanted to, but at the end of the day, Lucifer had been pulling this kind of shit for  _ millennia. _ Even if it was just a hallucination, she was scared.

Steeling herself, she switched the water off and flung the shower curtain back. She pulled her stubbornness, her unwillingness to lose Sam, her inability to not have this entire family with her, she pulled all of that around her like a cloak as she stepped out. Chrys would  _ not _ lose.

She  _ could _ not lose.

***

Sam was watching, bemused, as Lucifer swung the iron fire poker like a golf club. Every hunter instinct he had was telling him that, if Lucifer was an apparition or a ghost, he wouldn’t be able to touch the fire poker at all. Sam knew it was nonsense, but there was nothing he could do about his instincts screaming how  _ wrong _ all of it was.

He was  _ trying _ to clean his guns, but was thoroughly distracted by  _ Satan _ practicing his goddamn swing.

“Okay,” he said softly, trying to be quiet enough that neither Bobby nor Chrys would hear him, “if this is some dream, and you’ve got power over it, why don’t you just end it?”

Lucifer looked up, pausing his movements. “End it? This? You not knowing what’s real, the paint slowly peeling off your walls, come on, man, this is the sweet spot! Why would I end it? Not like we got HBO in the Pit. All I got is you, floating over the coals, with half a hope that you’re gonna figure it all out. There’s only one way to figure it out, Sam. It’s up to you. It ends when you can’t take it anymore.” His eyes flicked toward the guns, organized neatly on the table for cleaning. “I think maybe  _ that’s _ why we’re cleaning our guns.”

Sam felt himself blanch. “Shut  _ up,” _ he snarled.

“… Having yourself a bag lady moment, Sammy?”

Sam looked up at Chrys as she came down the stairs. She was smiling, but it was tight with worry, and her incredibly blue eyes shone with concern. He watched as she gracefully walked across the room to him, then was helpless to look away when Lucifer damn near pounced on her, playing with her hair and sniffing at her neck.

She came to stand in front of Sam, and he spread his legs so she could stand between them. He groaned and pressed his face into her stomach. She ran her fingers through his hair soothingly. “Shh, Sammy,” her melodic, low voice was like a balm to his frayed, raw nerves. “You’re gonna beat him.”

“What if I can’t?” he asked harshly.

“Done it before,” Bobby said simply. Sam looked up to see the older hunter standing in the doorway, three beers in his hand. “Don’t see why this would be any different.”

“It’s  _ miles _ different,” Sam insisted.

“Not really,” Chrys said thoughtfully, accepting the beer from Bobby without looking away from Sam. He rested his chin on her belly and stared up at her, trying to focus on how in love he was with her, and not on how Lucifer was currently groping her. “You’re not in hell anymore, you’re here, with us.” She smiled. “With me.”

Bobby’s phone rang and he frowned. “That’s my local>” He flipped it open and walked away a bit to talk.

Chrys ran her fingers through Sam’s hair again. “With me?” she asked gently.

He hesitated, because he didn’t want to lie to her, but he  _ did _ want to be with her, god dammit. “Trying to be.”

“Well, we’ll take it.”

Bobby came back in frowning. “Well, either Sheriff Mills is having an ObamaCare-insured opium dream, or something’s eating folks down at Sioux Falls General Hospital.”

“Do you think it’s leviathans?” Chrys asked.

Bobby shrugged. “Maybe. You kids good here?”

Chrys nodded. “We’ll man the phones.”

_ “Threesome!” _ Lucifer crowed, and Sam winced.

***

Chrys was watching Sam reassemble his gun again, timing himself. She didn’t like it, thought it was a little too much like obsessive behavior for her to really be comfortable with it, but as long as it kept the hollowed look he got when Lucifer was talking to him out of his eyes, she would deal.

He suddenly looked up, then frowned and stood. Chrys followed him to the door, her eyes wide when he opened it and started a conversation with Dean.

Well, Chrys assumed it was with Dean, because  _ no one was there. _

“What?” Sam was asking the empty air in front of the door.

After a beat. “Did you call Bobby?”

Another. “Wait, are you sure about that?”

Chrys had had enough. She stood in front of Sam firmly and cupped his face in her hands hard.

_ “Sam,” _ she said severely.

He frowned down at her, confused. “What?”

“Sam, whoever you’re seeing, probably Dean?” In response to his nod. “Yeah, Dean’s not there.”

“What…” He started to look scared. “What are you talking about?”

She tried to think quickly. “Sam, if I stood in front of Dean like this, he would push me out of the way, right?”

“I… I mean, I guess? I don’t-“

“You  _ know _ he would. He’s probably cussing up a blue streak behind me, instead, because  _ he can’t touch me. _ It’s  _ not Dean.” _

Sam’s eyes flicked up to look behind her, then widened. “Fuck,” he breathed out weakly.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said soothingly.

Sam yanked his head away. “God  _ dammit! _ No, it’s fucking  _ not, _ Chrys!”

He turned to the kitchen and swiped the couple of empty bottles off of the counter, sending them crashing to the floor. Chrys rolled her eyes.  _ Drama queen. _ She didn’t really feel that way, but she was panicking internally, and sarcasm really was her only refuge in times like these.

Sam was stomping around the kitchen, furious. “What good am I ever gonna be?! I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not! I can’t even tell you if  _ this _ is real!”

She approached slowly, not really looking to get punched by the love of her life. His chest was heaving and his eyes were wild, rolling around, searching for Lucifer. “Sam, we talked about this, baby. You and me, right? We know what’s real, because  _ we’re _ real.”

“But what if you’re not?” The fear in his whisper broke her heart into a million pieces. “What if you’re some part of the hallucination?  _ What if I can’t trust you?’ _

“Well, you’re just gonna have to,” she said simply as she came to stand in front of him, almost chest to chest. “I know it isn’t ideal, but you’re too smart to believe any proof I give you. So you’re just gonna have to take a chance that I am who I say I am, and you’re gonna have to trust me, okay?” She searched his eyes when they finally landed and stuck on her. “Okay, Sammy?”

He stared at her for a long time, and Chrys could only hope she’d pass whatever evaluation he was putting her through.

“Okay, beautiful,” he croaked out, and she fought not to sag in relief.

***

Hours later, Chrys was dozing on the couch when Sam shook her, waking her up abruptly.

“Sam?” she asked, trying to clear the fog of sleep from her mind. “Sam, what’s wrong?”

“Chrys,” he said softly. “The smoke. Is it real?”

She looked up, a caustic question on the tip of her tongue that died the moment she saw the  _ actual _ smoke pouring from one side of the house. “Shit,” she said vehemently, lurching to her feet and fisting her hand in Sam’s flannel to drag him with her as she ran. “Real! Real!”

They both stumbled out of the house and into the yard, turning to see one side of the building up in flames. Chrys felt her chill in her veins.

Sure, it was possible that this was an electrical fire of some sort. It was possible that maybe some artifact or spell or  _ something _ had finally gotten a little too close to something else and exploded.

Honestly, though, what were the chances of that?

“We need to hide,” she decided, grabbing Sam’s shirt again and pulling him along.

As they ran, crouching to keep low, they ran into Dean, who was  _ also _ keeping low.

His green eyes were wild as he grabbed Chrys’ arms.  _ “Shit. _ You guys are okay. Thank  _ fuck.” _

_ “Dean,” _ she hissed. “What are you doing here?”

“Followed the leviathan kids back,” he said, distracted by checking Sam over for injuries. “They headed this way, so I figured we could track them from here.” He looked up and met Chrys’ eyes again. “Where’s Bobby?” He paled. “Oh, God, he’s not still in there, is he?”

Chrys shook her head. “No, no, he was at the hospital with Sheriff Mills, still.” She shivered at the thought of Bobby being gone.  _ That would be bad. _ “But Dean, listen, we’ve gotta go.”

“Yeah, yeah, come on.” They ran through the salvage yard, back toward the Impala, keeping an eye out for those who set the fires.

When the three of them rounded the corner, there was a bearded man standing in the middle of one of the aisles. He was standing casually with his hands in his coat pockets, smirking. “Ah, the Winchesters. Congratulations! Apparently, you three are competent enough to warrant annihilating.” He leaned forward. “I’d take it as a compliment,” he said with a conspiratory air.

Dean whipped his gun out and shot the man in the side of the head. His temple exploded with black goo, and Chrys dove and rolled under one of the cars. Sam and Dean were staring at the man, whose face had regenerated quickly. Chrys watched in horror as his mouth transforms, elongating and growing to cover almost his entire head, with two long, sharp rows of teeth. A huge split tongue snaked from his mouth, flicking a few times, before he pulled it back in and his face returned to normal.

_ Welp. Shit. _

The man took two quick steps toward Dean, knocked his gun away, then picked the eldest Winchester up and flung him several feet. Chrys heard the thick, wet  _ snap _ of a bone cracking and winced when he hit the ground.

She rolled from under the car and ran toward the hoist, thanking the powers that be that she’d helped Bobby run the salvage yard for the week before she’d gone to Kevin and Serene.

She grabbed the control just as she heard Sam shout.

“Chrys,  _ now!” _

She slammed on the button and turned in time to watch the leviathan strike Sam over the head with a metal pipe, to watch Sam go down like a sack of bricks, and to watch the car crush the leviathan.

_ “Sam!” _ She whipped her phone out and was dialing nine-one-one before she got to either Winchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	52. Dean Winchester Turns into a Twelve-Year-Old Girl When He's High

As soon as the nurse left her and Sam alone in the hallway, Chrys started to plan for a way to get both the Winchesters and herself out of Sioux Falls General Hospital. The problem was she’d followed Sam when they’d wheeled him into the emergency room, so she had no idea where Dean was. She wasn’t particularly worried about getting by hospital staff, but she  _ did _ need to find Dean.

As she began to push the gurney that her unconscious lover was on down the hall, she almost wheeled him right into a suited-up Bobby.

Even though she’d known that Bobby hadn’t been in the house  _ or _ on the property at all, the sight of the older hunter standing in the white, sterile hall of the hospital had her sagging in relief. “Bobby, thank  _ Christ.” _

He rolled his eyes. “Wanna explain to me why everyone thought I was  _ dead?” _

“The house burned down, and there was what I suspect was a goddamn  _ leviathan _ trying to kill us?”

Bobby’s eyebrows rose. “How’d you kill it?”

Chrys smiled. “I dropped a car on him,” she said smugly.

Bobby chuckled. “That’s my girl,” he said almost fondly. He quickly sobered. “Come on, we gotta meet Dean at the ambulance dock.”

He came around to help steer Sam. “Where even is Dean?” she asked as they moved briskly down the corridor.

Bobby snorted. “Idiot got his leg broken. He’s high as a kite, but they’ve already got a caston him, so he’s mobile… Enough.”

Chrys winced in sympathy, but nodded. “Good enough for me.”

“Excuse me!” A new voice called. When Chrys turned, a young woman in nurse’s scrubs was frowning and hurrying to catch up with them.

_ I fucking hate hospitals, _ she thought venomously as she pasted a polite smile on her face. “Can I help you?”

“Where are you taking him?” the nurse demanded.

Chrys had, quite frankly, already had a rough twelve hours. The patience she normally would have had for constructing some sort of believable story for this woman was completely gone. She was considering how best to restrain and subdue her when Bobby, bless him, spoke.

“Coverage lapsed,” he lied smoothly. “We’re shipping him to county.”

The nurse, who had caught up with them and was standing next to the gurney, seemed to soften. “Oh, poor thing. All right, just… Can’t be too careful, you know.”

Chrys nodded. “Absolutely, no worries.”

When the woman had finally rounded the corner, they hurried down the hallway again. They were both on high alert, trying to look like they belonged.

When they finally got to the dock, Bobby hotwired one of the ambulances while Chrys loaded Sam into the back. It was a pain in the ass, Sam was a tall man. By the time she’d managed it, she was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and was even more irritated.

It was not helped when she turned and saw Dean, still dressed in a hospital gown and  _ definitely _ high as a kite. He was struggling down the ramp with his crutches.

She met him halfway to help him down. “You know,” she griped, “people who aren’t used to doing drugs shouldn’t get to do the good ones.”

Dean looked over at her, surprised. “Chrys! You’re here!” He pointed down at the leg in a cast, as much as he could with her hurrying them both along. “Chrys, look, monsters broke my leg.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can see that, you fucking lightweight.”

He gave her a dopey grin.  _ “Chrys!” _

She continued to haul both of them down the ramp. They were almost to the ambulance. “What?”

_ “Chrys,” _ he whispered enthusiastically. “I think Sammy  _ lo-o-oves _ you.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she growled, “Dean Winchester turns into a twelve-year-old girl when he’s high. No, do  _ not _ check to make sure your dick is still there!”

He was looking panicked as she opened the door and began herding him into the passenger seat of the ambulance. “But-”

“Summers!” Bobby barked as he pulled himself up into the driver’s seat. “We got company!”

She whirled and saw both a doctor and a nurse hurrying toward them. She turned and gave Dean an apologetic look. “This is gonna hurt.”

He frowned. “What’s gonna-”

She gave him a hard shove into the ambulance, ignoring his pained yelp. She moved him over, as gently and quickly as possible, then got in herself just as Bobby was hitting the accelerator.

“Do you have a plan?” she panted as she got Dean situated.

“Yep,” Bobby said shortly, but offered no other information.

She was okay with that.

* * *

Chrys settled Sam in one of the guest bedrooms of Rufus’ old cabin that night, undressing him quickly until he was just in boxers and a t-shirt, then tucking him tightly into the bed. She sat next to him and ran her hand through his hair, staring down at him with more worry than she would let herself have if he’d been awake and looking at her.

“I don’t know how to help you,” she whispered, letting the worry that kept her up at night finally have a voice. Finally putting it into real words, spoken aloud.

“I’m not qualified for this, Sammy.” There were tears in her eyes. “You want someone’s ass kicked, or someone to mouth off at a being way more powerful, I’m your girl. But I’m barely holding it together myself, most times, I don’t know how to hold another person in one piece.”

She felt a tear slide down her face and she dashed it away, irritated. “I’m going to try to be what you need me to be,” she whispered again, “I don’t know if I can, but I’m gonna try.”

She stayed there for a long time.

* * *

Bobby hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, he really hadn’t, but the door had been left open a crack. Chrys must not have closed it all the way.

With Dean put in a bed for the night, conked out on what looked like a good cocktail of pain medicine, Bobby had been going to bed down in the third bedroom, just moving down the hallway, when he’d heard Chrys through the door.

When he did get to his room and shut the door (completely shut, latch  _ click _ and all), Bobby sat down on his bed. He let his elbows rest on his knees, hands dangling down, and thought for a while.

Bobby  _ liked _ Chrys. He’d always had a penchant for women who were made of fire and sass. He’d never seen Chrys back down from a fight, even if he could tell that she was scared. The only time he’d really ever seen her weak was when they’d all gotten back from the averted apocalypse, and she’d looked so thin and terrified and lost. He hadn’t been able to help want to take care of her.

It was that week, the week of making sure she ate and slept, that really cemented the feeling of Chrys being one of his. Now, with all of his kids hurt in one way or another, Bobby was filled with a sort of helpless feeling that he  _ despised. _

Lucky for him, one of the things he was really,  _ really _ good at was research. And lucky for him, research was just what Chrys needed.

* * *

The next morning, Sam still hadn’t woken up, but he’d moved around a little in his sleep. Chrys wrapped herself in one of his shirts and a pair of her leggings and trudged downstairs to find out what Bobby had found to eat in the dusty old cabin.

She was finger combing her hair when she got down to the kitchen. She smiled when the smell of coffee and buttered toast hit her, and she padded over to the coffee pot on bare feet. “Morning, Singer,” she said sweetly.

He just hmphed at her, and she grinned as she poured herself a cup. No matter what else was going on, she could count on Bobby being willing to tell her to go fuck herself any time before he’d had a full cup of coffee.

There was already a plate of toast on the counter, so she picked that up too and brought it to the table where Bobby was sitting, paperwork scattered around him. She raised her eyebrows in question as she sat across from him. She didn’t realize the ancient computer and printer situated in the master bedroom even  _ worked. _

Without acknowledging the silent question, he put a stack of papers in front of her. She read the heading and frowned in confusion.

_ “Reality vs. Hallucinations: Understanding and Helping Patients with Schizophrenia.” _ She looked up again. “What is this?”

“I figure if Sam’s still seein’ shit that ain’t there,” Bobby said gruffly, “we should figure out somethin’ to help him discern what’s real from what’s fake.”

Chrys was truly, honestly speechless for a moment. When what Bobby had said sunk in, she felt a wide, happy grin spread across her face. “Bobby, you old softie.”

“Shut up, summers, and get to readin’.”

She did just that.

* * *

It was evening before either Winchester brother joined them.

Chrys had gone out to the local grocery store to stock up. The cabin had a few amenities, and a big standing freezer outside that had a loaf of bread in it, but that was all. She made sure they had enough food to feed four people for several weeks while Dean and Sam healed. She got enough vegetables to make Sam happy, and enough ingredients to make pie to keep Dean happy.

_ Thank God Bobby’s low maintenance, _ she thought to herself more than once during the excursion.

As she was putting the finishing touches on spaghetti and garlic bread, she heard shuffling steps and a whispered curse at the top of the stairs.

“Which one of you is that?” she called, not leaving her place at the stove.

“It’s me,” Dean grunted. “I’m coming down. If I fall and break my other leg, leave me here to die.”

Chrys rolled her eyes. “Drama queen.”

“Shut it, Summers, I’m crippled, not deaf.”

“Just get your ass down here, dinner’s almost ready.”

He eventually made his way down the stairs, muttering about heartless bitches and no respect the whole time. Chrys kept her chuckling to herself, but only barely. They both knew if she went in there and tried to help, he’d be even more irate than he was now.

_ Drama queen, _ she thought fondly.

Once he was down in the kitchen with her, she did pull out a chair for him before making two plates and setting one in front of him. She also filled two glasses with water, grabbed some of his painkillers, and sat next to him, doling out drugs and water.

“How do you feel?” she asked, twirling her fork in the noodles.

“Like a leviathan threw me into a car and broke my leg,” he sniped.

Unimpressed, Chrys rolled her eyes. “Can the attitude. You’re fine.”

He grumbled, but fell quiet for a few minutes before speaking again. “Good thinking with the car,” he finally acquiesced.

Far from modest, Chrys grinned. “Right? I’m a genius.”

It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes, but Chrys didn’t let him dampen her mood. It  _ had _ been a damn good move, and she was going to brag about it for the rest of her life, god dammit.

“How’s, uh, how’s Sammy?” Dean asked gruffly.

Ah,  _ there _ went her good mood. “Still asleep,” she said softly. “I think it’s sleep, anyway. I’m hoping it’s not unconsciousness.”

“Didn’t he get a CAT scan?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it came back clear. I wasn’t real focused on it, though. I was mostly worried about whether the nurse was going to eat us.”

Dean frowned. “What?”

“Dean, that thing looked like it was  _ human. _ I thought it  _ was _ for a second, I thought it was just some dude who’d showed up before his head went all…” She opened her mouth wide and wagged her tongue around. “I think it was a leviathan, and you do, too, but the fact is we don’t  _ know _ yet. So, yeah, I was a little bit focused on making sure neither of us got  _ eaten.” _

He looked affronted. “What about me?!”

She shrugged. “I only have two eyes, I had no idea where they took you, and I wasn’t going to just  _ leave _ Sam to come try to find you.”

“You left me to  _ die?!” _

“… I would have missed you?”

_ “What?!” _

“Especially the unattractive screeching,” Chrys mused. “That’s one of my favorite parts of you.”

Dean pointed his fork at her. “Fuck you, Summers.”

“Maybe some other time, big boy, I’m still eating.”

Dean rolled his eyes again, and she laughed out loud. The heavy atmosphere, thick with the absence of Sam, dissipated, leaving her feeling lighter than she’d had in a while, for just a few moments.

“Where’s Bobby?”

“Research.”

Dean frowned. “I thought all of his research was at the house? You know, the one that  _ burned down?” _

“It was.”

“Chrys,” Dean said seriously, “most of that stuff was priceless. Irreplacable.”

“You know how paranoid Bobby is. He has copies stashed all over the place. He went to get one of his collections, he said he’ll be back by morning.”

Dean frowned again. “He left you here by yourself?”

Chrys shrugged. “It’s not that big a deal. The place is easily defendable, and now that the fridge is full, we’re set up for a few weeks of recovery time.” When she looked over at him, Dean was still frowning.

Chrys was struck again by how lucky she was to have these men in her life. Sam, of course, would always be at the top of her list, but she loved Dean and Bobby, too. The protective, irritated way Dean was looking at her made her both warm on the inside, and made her want to wipe the look on his face.

“I may have gotten enough stuff to make a pie,” she said thoughtfully, like the comment wasn’t a guided missile.

The worry was wiped from his face as his eyes lit up with delight. “Ms. Summers, you are a lady and a scholar,” he said fervently.

Chrys just laughed happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	53. We Gotta Stop Doing That

Chrys hadn’t realized how tense and worried she’d been until Sam woke up.

She spent the first week they were in Rufus’ cabin cleaning, cooking, and trying desperately to distract herself from the fact that Sam was still sleeping like the dead. She tried to keep up a good face, but Dean knew her too well, and after the third day of forced cheerfulness, he just said, “C, I get it. You don’t gotta pretend with me.” It was with relief that she dropped the act and just let herself become manically busy.

Bobby’s return helped a great deal with that. The three of them got to work researching leviathans, purgatory, and anything else they could get their hands on. Unfortunately, that wasn’t much, so in between, Chrys researched head injuries, comas, and hallucinations.

She was trying to stay awake while she read a girl’s account of what she’d experienced while in a coma (“I heard and felt everything! It was terrible!”), sitting in Sam’s room. She had her papers propped up on his hip, her elbows on the bed, and her chin held in her hand. She was  _ not _ winning the battle against sleep.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him shift his head on the pillow to look at her. She whipped her head around and stared in disbelief as he sleepily blinked his eyes, focusing on her slowly.

His lips quirked up in a smile, and her heart stopped. “Hey, beautiful.”

“Holy shit,” she whispered. “You’re up.”

“Yeah.” He frowned a little. “Why do I feel like death?”

“You, uh… You got a pretty hard knock to the head.” Her throat felt dry and tight with emotion. “Gave us a pretty good scare.”

His big hand moved shakily, and she took it and wrapped it in both of hers. “Gonna take more than that to get rid of me, beautiful,” he murmured, smiling at her gently.

Chrys gave herself a pass for the tears starting to mist her eyes, since she’d just spent a week thinking she might never see that smile again. “Missed you,” she whispered.

“You, too.”

She dashed a hand over her eyes. “You must be  _ starving.” _

He nodded. “And I probably need a bathroom worse than I ever have in my  _ life.” _

She chuckled and stood. “Let’s get you taken care of, handsome.”

* * *

Sam spent the first few hours feeling weak as a kitten. He despised it, but Chrys seemed to be satisfied by the act of caring for him, so he didn’t complain  _ too _ much.

She settled him on the couch next to Dean and fussed over both of them. Sam met Dean’s eyes more than once to see the suppressed laughter there, but they were both too scared of her to say anything out loud about it. They weren’t  _ stupid. _

“Don’t think I can’t see the two of you making fun of me,” she said archly as she brought in lunch for them. “As soon as everyone’s back up and at ‘em, you’re both free game again, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean said dutifully.

She hmphed and rolled her eyes, but she handed food out and pressed a kiss to the top of Sam’s head before wandering back into the kitchen.

Sam was starting to dig into the soup she’d brought when Dean spoke. “Glad you’re with the land of the living again, little brother.”

Sam stared at the soup mournfully for a moment before turning to Dean, ready to talk about whatever it was Dean was hedging around. “Yeah, same.”

“Chrys was, uh…” Dean sighed. “You know, we gotta stop doing that to her.”

“Almost dying?”

“Yeah. She seems tough, Sammy, and God knows I don’t want to meet her in a darkened alley, but she’s kind of… I dunno, soft? Squishy on the inside?” Sam chuckled, and Dean did, too, but his older brother sobered quick enough. “She was real goddamn worried this last week.”

“Well, it’s not like I did it on purpose-“

“No, no, I know you didn’t. I’m just… Y’know, I wish she didn’t have to go through this with us, sometimes.”

Sam considered Dean for a long moment.  _ Speaking of someone who looks tough but is kind of squishy on the inside… _ “Yeah, I get that.”

“Whatever,” Dean said suddenly, dismissively. “No chick-flick moments.”

“You started it-”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” Dean interrupted mildly.

“Jerk.”

* * *

Over the next week, Sam kept an eye on his woman. He was… Pleasantly surprised.

It was the most relaxed he’d ever seen her. While there was definitely still a war going on, a fight to be had, but until he and Dean were back on their feet, there was nothing to do. There wasn’t even any more research to do, leviathans and purgatory being such an arcane subject, even for them. So they spent that next week recuperating and relaxing. Chrys was even back in her tank tops and skirts, swirling around her ankles when she moved.

Dean declared that they’d be watching movies all week, to which everyone agreed fairly easily. It wasn’t like they had anything else to do, and Sam was uneasy at the thought of Chrys leaving the house just to go to the library to get reading material. He didn’t particularly want her out of his sight.

She rolled her eyes fondly, but queued up Netflix and curled up next to him on the couch with no verbal disagreement each night.

Her head was resting on his shoulder, and he ran his fingers through her hair as she teased Dean about his crush on Clint Eastwood. Dean, far from being embarrassed, simply shrugged and said, “I mean, if there’s anyone I’d bend over for…”

Chrys’ clear laughter rang through the house like a bell, drowning out Bobby’s exasperated sigh and Sam’s own grossed-out noise. He hugged her closer, pressing a hard kiss to her temple.  _ Damn, I love you. _

He didn’t realize he’d said it out loud until she turned and smiled up at him, so close he could see the hundred different shades of blue shining in her eyes. “I love you, too,” she whispered, just for him.

He kissed her gently, not trying to start anything, just wanting to show her how much he loved her without saying it out loud. She returned the kiss, gently placing her slender, soft hand on his jaw. They separated and turned back to the movie as if they’d rehearsed it, but she tucked herself up beneath his chin and pressed close.

* * *

If Chrys thought she was being subtle about what she wanted when she led them to the bedroom that night, Sam would have been happy to explain to her where she’d gone wrong.

As soon as the door shut behind them, she was on him, winding her arms around his neck and kissing him hard. He groaned, felt it deep in his chest, and gave as good as he got, nipping at her pretty mouth and gripping her hips hard to haul her against him. She surged up and knocked him back into the wall.

He tried to hide his wince, but when he opened his eyes, she was looking up at him knowingly. He turned to press a kiss to the palm of the hand she brought up to cup his face and opened his mouth to apologize.

She spoke before he could. “It’s okay, handsome.” There was understanding in her eyes, but the heat hadn’t abated whatsoever. She came up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his ear. “Let me do all the work.”

He felt her smile against his cheek, then fist her hands in his shirt. She tugged him around, knocking him off balance a little, then used it against him to walk him backward. By the time the backs of his knees hit the bed, he was clued into her plan. He wrapped his arms around her slim waist and pulled her with him as he fell backwards.

She squeaked a little into his mouth, and he laughed as she scrambled to get her balance back. Once she did, she wrapped her slender fingers around his wrists and pulled until he laid his arms at his sides. “These stay here,” she said softly against his lips. “Let me take care of you, handsome.

Sam understood what she meant, so he kept them where she’d put them. Chrys wasn’t always good with words, and vulnerability made her uncomfortable and twitchy. She would cook him dinner and give him soft, one-line answers all day, but she wouldn’t be able to say out loud how scared she’d been. How relieved she’d been when he woke up. So he would stay here, let her show him how much she’d missed him, how worried she’d been.

All of these thoughts went through his head in a flash. Before he could do much more than briefly acknowledge them, Chris was pressing hard, biting kisses to his jaw. He shuddered and bit back a moan. It was too early to let her be affecting him like this.

She moved her way down his neck, sucking possessive little marks into the skin there that would be gone by morning. When she got to the barrier of his shirt, she sat up, straddling his waist with those long legs. She tugged at the hem of his tee, and he followed her silent order easily, sitting up to strip it off and toss it to the side. She put her warm hands on his chest and pressed him back down to lie flat.

She sucked a darker mark onto his collarbone, then released the flesh and soothed the ache with her tongue. She made her way down his chest, stopping to bite at each of his nipples with her tongue, finally punching the moan from deep in his chest. He felt her smirk against him.

She kissed her way down his stomach, dipping her tongue into his navel, laying more biting kisses on the soft skin between there and the waistband of his jeans. He let out an explosive, shuddering breath and his hips bucked upward of their own accord. She laughed, low and melodic, still pressed against him.

She finally started on the fastening of his jeans, slowly releasing him. She tugged his jeans and briefs down together until he lifted his hips to help. She pulled them just low beneath his ass, just enough to release his aching cock.

Chrys hummed appreciatively and pressed a too-gentle kiss to the base, making him moan again. “Shh, I’ve got you, handsome,” she murmured, kissing up the underside. She used her tongue to pay attention to the sensitive spot just beneath his head and he tried to buck up into her mouth. Rather than teasing, she just opened her mouth for him, letting him sink into her wet warmth.

He tipped his head down to watch himself move in her mouth, the way her pretty blue eyes fluttered shut, and her lips stretched around his girth. The sight was almost too much for him, but he made himself watch as she bobbed her head along his length in a slow, steady rhythm.

“Jesus,” he breathed out roughly, “you’re  _ gorgeous.” _

She pulled off of him with an  _ obscene _ pop, and smirked up at him, her lips shiny and swollen. She crawled over him, a predatory, heated look in her eyes. She straddled him again and moved her skirts around and out of her way, and he gasped out loud when he realized that she wasn’t wearing underwear.

“Did you think I started up again?” She purred, clearly pleased with herself. “Still easy access, baby.”

She reached beneath her skirt and wrapped her hot hand around his cock, making him moan and twitch his hips up again. She chuckled and sank down onto him slowly, enveloping her in her tight heat.

Sam gasped and closed his eyes, tilting his head back as she braced herself with hands on his chest. The thought of her taking him in, splitting herself open on his cock, was damn near unbearable for him. He fisted his hands in her skirt, trying hard to keep still like she wanted him to.

More of her soft laughter told him that she knew precisely what he was doing. He groaned as she bent down, starting to move herself up and down on his dick, and pressed her lips to the bolt of his jaw, just below his ear.

“You’re doing so well, Sammy,” she whispered, her own breath becoming labored as she moved. “So sexy, you’re so strong, so much power holding still, just ‘cause little ol’ me told you to.”

“I’d do anything you told me to,” he said immediately, through gritted teeth, no thought to it. Of  _ course _ he’d do whatever Chrys told him to.

Her soft gasp hit him almost as hard as her sitting up and starting to move faster, almost bouncing on him. He groaned and tilted his head back, trying to control himself.

“Come on, Sammy,” she groaned. ‘Fuck me, please, come on, baby-”

It was all he needed. His hands flew up to grip her hips, keeping her still. He brought his legs up a little bit, planting his feet for leverage, and started to slam up into her. She tilted er head back and cried out, her fingernails digging into his chest. “Sam,” she whimpered, clearly trying to keep her voice down in deference to the other people in the house.

He lost himself in the fast, hard rhythm they built together. The feeling of slamming into her, the way her hips move and swivelled beneath his hands, the way she was braced on his chest, leaning against him, giving him all of her weight, it was all almost too much. He wanted her to come first.

He moved one of his hands from her hip to burrow it beneath her shirt until he was brushing his fingertips at the crease where her thigh met her groin. She brought in a deep, shuddering breath, and he grinned wolfishly. “Come on, beautiful.”

_ “Sam.” _

He shifted so his fingers were splayed against her warm belly and gently started to thumb at her clit. She cried out and rocked against him, shifting the way she was moving on him, making him moan, too.  _ “Fuck, _ Chrys, come on,  _ come for me.” _

She slapped one of her hands over her mouth as she started to climax, muffling her own cries. Sam kept up his ministrations with his thumb and drove up into her harder, determined to milk her orgasm for all it was worth.

She was gasping, though, and her channel was squeezing him rhythmically, and there was no chance of him holding out any longer. HE slammed into her one, two more times before heat and pleasure exploded out from his middle, making him grit his teeth against the harsh shout that wanted to escape him.

They rode out the aftershocks together until she slumped against him, burying her face in his neck, not heeding the sweat there. He raised one of his hands to run it through her hair gently, pressing soft kisses to her shoulder.

“Missed you,” she mumbled.

He smiled a little.  _ There it is. _ “Missed you, too, beautiful.”

* * *

The next morning, Chrys found Dean standing in the kitchen. He raised his mug a little to her, and she gave him a nod while she made her own cup of coffee.

They stayed, silent for a while, and Chrys soaked up the camaraderie, the companionship, until he spoke.

“Two of you had a good night, huh?”

She glared at him, willing herself not to blush. “‘She’s kind of squishy on the inside,’ huh?”

When he muttered about “bionic ears,” she laughed loud enough to wake Sam upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.  
> **I just want to thank everyone who continues to read _I Won't Love You. _I just think it's amazing that I started out this long-ass fic, like a year ago, and you're still here. So thank you, again. If you ever feel like this ridiculously long ride isn't for you, go ahead and jump off. I'll understand. But if you want to keep going because you love them like I love them, stay with me. There's some crazy times ahead. <3__


	54. You Call This Normal?

_ “Dude,” _ Chrys said breathily.  _ “Ricardo.” _

“Suicidio,” Dean agreed, his voice thick with emotion that his face hid well.

Chrys watched raptly as the woman on screen cry dramatically over her dead lover’s body. She knew it was ridiculous, but she was pretty swept up in the storyline, too. It wasn’t like they had anything  _ better _ to do while Dean’s leg healed.

She heard Sam scoff behind them, but paid him no mind as she watched the Spanish soap opera that she and Dean had become addicted to in the last three weeks. They were all suffering from a bit of cabin fever, but there wasn’t much to do for it. She couldn’t  _ actually _ keep Sam in the bedroom all day, as much as she wanted to. They had to eat every once in a while.

When Bobby came in, she barely looked up at all. “Adios, ese,” she said mournfully to the dead character.

“Uh-huh,” Bobby said slowly. He tossed the keys to the Impala to Dean. “This oughta cheer you up.

True to form, Dean’s face lit up and he caught them easily. “My baby!” He paused, then glared down at the cast on his leg. “Now I just gotta get this stupid thing off and I can drive again.”

Sam came to stand next to where Chrys was sitting on the couch. He leaned against the arm, and she tilted her head to rest against his hip as he spoke. “So how is it out there?” he asked Bobby.

The older hunter sighed as he sat down. “Weird, with a side order of bloody. Talked to a few hunters. They’re running into the same kind of thing that set up shop at that hospital.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, and don’t forget tried to kill us at your place.” He gestured toward his cast bitterly.

“Well, consensus is they’re, um, they’re shapeshifters, only a lot more into eating folk. And nothing can kill them.”

“Good times. Anything else?”

“Yep. They bleed black goo.”

“Like that stuff that came out of Cas. Those things from purgatory,” Sam said eagerly.

_ “Leviathans,” _ Chrys purred, triumphant. She turned and stuck her tongue out at Dean. “Told ya.”

Dean ignored her to look at Bobby. “What about those chompers that you guys saw at the hospital? They still making spleenburgers?”

“Made some calls. That doctor never showed back up to work. Ditto a nurse and some administrator.”

In the very middle of Bobby’s explanation, Chrys felt Sam tense against her. She denied the urge to sigh, but sat up and slipped her hand into his, holding tightly.

He’d been handling the hallucinations just fine, but they were always vivid, and just as difficult for him to separate from reality as they had been the first few times. Always Lucifer, always saying the same thing.

_ This isn’t real. You’re still in hell with me. _

She had exhausted her ideas on how to help him. Tiring him out with sex had worked for a time, but they couldn’t keep that pace up. Neither of them were nineteen anymore (not that she’d been having sex at nineteen, but she’d  _ wanted _ to). He could only sleep so much, so that was out. He said that trying to distract himself with books and movies wasn’t working, so they were left with very few options.

The only one that seemed to have any sort of long-term effect was using Chrys’ hand in his injured one as a touchstone. It was able to bring him back most of the time.

“So they could be at any hospital in America,” Dean was saying.

Bobby nodded. “Yeah.”

“What do you think, Sam?” As soon as Dean realized that Sam wasn’t exactly paying attention, Chrys watched with dread as his face darkened with irritation and suspicion. “Sammy?  _ Sam!” _ When there was no response, “Hey! Ground control!”

Sam gave a full body jerk, then blinked in confusion for a moment before his eyes cleared. “Sorry, yeah. What? I’m right here.”

“You okay?” Dean’s voice was heavy with doubt.

“I’m fine.”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause while everyone reflected on how not true that was before Bobby spoke again.

“Well. All righty then. We gotta hit the books again.”

“Here, I’ll help you,” Sam said as Bobby rose to retrieve the research material they’d left stashed upstairs. He followed the older hunter after squeezing Chrys’ hand once, hard.

“So,” Dean said as soon as they were out of earshot. “What do you think about  _ Girl, Interrupted _ over there?”

Chrys braced herself for the argument she was about to have. “I think he’s getting better, to be honest.”

_ “Better?” _ he spluttered. “What do you mean,  _ better? _ You just saw him!”

“He checked out  _ once, _ Dean. That’s progress.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Look, everyone heals at their own rate. He’s dealing with a lot.”

“He’s not ‘healing at his own rate,’ Chrys, he’s a fucking time bomb.”

Chrys stood and ran her fingers through her hair, wildly frustrated. “At least he’s finally  _ talking _ to us! What you see is what you get now. What’s so crazy about calling this a good thing?”

“Because that’s not how it works!” Dean shouted. “All right?  _ Especially _ not with Sam. The other shoe is gonna drop, it’s just a matter of when.”

“Look,” she snapped. “How about we worry about what’s happening  _ right now? _ Today, right now, we need intel. And Sammy’s  _ good _ at intel, and research. So when they get back down here, you’re gonna sit down, you’re gonna shut up, and you’re gonna  _ let Sam have this, _ or I swear to God, Winchester, I will  _ break your other leg.” _

He grumbled but relented, slumping back on the couch when Sam and Bobby came back into the room. He didn’t say anything as Sam handed him one of the books, but Chrys kept a wary eye on him, anyway.

She trusted the Winchesters with her life, but she couldn’t win for losing as far as getting either of them to do what she’d told them to.

* * *

Sam wandered into the gas station, glad to be out of the cabin, out from Dean’s watchful, suspicious eyes.

He knew that Dean thought he was about to break, or freak out, or  _ something, _ and he knew it was a legitimate worry. He’d done it before. Hell, he would have followed that hallucination of Dean right out of Bobby’s house if it hadn’t been for Chrys stopping him. He didn’t resent Dean for it, but it was exhausting to be under constant scrutiny like that. He was grateful for Chrys insisting that she had to go to town for cigarettes, at least it got him out of the house.

He wandered the little store as she went up to talk to the clerk. He was idly looking around, no real goal in mind, when his eyes landed on a newspaper with a bold headline.

_ ICE PICK KILLER STRIKES AGAIN _

Shaken, he took a copy of the paper and hurried to the front, knocking into Chrys a little when he got there. She squeaked, then glared up at him.

“The hell?”

He looked up at the clerk, pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, and handed him one of their fake credit cards. “This, too, thanks.”

* * *

Chrys was staring, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. “A kitsune.”

“Yep.”

“From twenty years ago.”

“I mean, not twenty  _ exactly. _ More like fifteen.”

“And why do you think it’s the same person?”

“I mean, it’s around the same area. And she…” He swallowed hard. “She meant a lot to me, Chrys.”

He’d already told her about the kitsune, a girl who was his first kiss (and no, she was  _ not _ jealous, goddammit), who he’d let go because she’d saved his life. She’d killed her own  _ mother _ for him.

“If she’s the same girl, why would she be killing people now?”

“I don’t know,” he said slowly, his focus far away as he thought. “I want to say she has a good reason, but I just don’t  _ know. _ And if she doesn’t have a good reason, this is my mess, my fault. I have to go take care of it.”

As much as she didn’t like it when he blamed himself for shit he couldn’t help, the way he was talking thrilled her. He was sharper than he’d been in days, and this was the longest they’d gone without him being overwhelmed by hallucinations since he’d started having them. It was almost like having her lover back, like it had been before he went to hell. It was intoxicating enough for her next words to slip out without her consent.

“Yeah, Sammy, okay. Let’s go track us down a kitsune.”

* * *

It was about six hours before her phone rang. She checked the name, glanced at Sam, and answered.

“Heya, Dean.”

“Chrys.” His voice was low and dangerous. “Where the hell are you?”

“Well, I’m afraid I’m not gonna tell you that.”

_ “Chrys.” _

“Look, I get it, I do, but I’m handling this. I’m with him, we’re just going on a hunt.”

“I-”

“I already turned off the GPS on our phones, and this is only staying on long enough to finish this conversation with you. After that, I’m turning it off until we’re done with this case.” She sighed and lowered her voice. “Can you try to just trust me?”

“Chrys, it’s  _ Sam.” _

“Oh, fuck you, I know who it is,” she said easily. “I want to take care of him just as much as you do, Dean.”

The man on the other end heaved a sigh.  _ “Fine. _ But you’d better be back in a few days, hear me? Or I’m sawing this cast off myself and coming up there.”

Chrys narrowed her eyes. “That cast had best stay on  _ exactly _ as long as it’s supposed to, Winchester.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The call disconnected.

Sam looked over from where he was driving. “What’s the verdict?”

Chrys turned the phone off. “I say he’ll give us about twelve hours before he heads this way.”

“That should be plenty of time.”

* * *

Chrys was, once again, rethinking her stance on underwear. She shifted subtly, trying to get more comfortable in her Fed suit. When Sam shot her a warning look, she realized she wasn’t being quite as inconspicuous as she’d been hoping and scowled.

Luckily, the coroner had been gone, and was just walking back into the room at that moment. “We don’t get too many murders out this way,” he was saying, “much less serial.”

Chrys followed Sam when he stood on the other side of the coroner’s table. “So what did you find?”

“It’s what we  _ didn’t _ find. Let me show you.” He pulled the sheet covering the body back. “Big chunk of mid-brain went missing.”

“Mid-brain like the pituitary gland?” Chrys asked, peeking around Sam at the body.

“Actually, their pituitaries were clear gone. How’d you know that?”

She smiled tightly. “Educated guess.”

* * *

Sam was wound tight as they waited in the Impala that night for the kitsune, Amy, to show up.

He knew that this was… Weird, but he couldn’t help but feel responsible for the deaths Amy had caused. He’d chosen to let her go as a kid, for more reasons than he’d told Chrys.

It wasn’t just that she’d been his first kiss, or that she’d killed her own mother to save him. It was more that Amy had been the first person to  _ get it. _ To get why he’d been so fucking  _ miserable, _ following his dad and brother around the country. To understand that he’d wanted a normal life, and why he couldn’t have it yet. To understand that he was  _ going _ to get it, whether his family liked it or not. She’d understood because she had been the same way. It was kind of devastating that she was killing, if she was, in fact, the reason behind the deaths (and kitsune were rare enough that he kind of had to assume that she was) because they had connected so quickly.

When he saw her walk down the wooded path, he knew. “Shit.”

“I know,” Chrys said, soft and unassuming beside him. She opened the passenger side door quietly. “Let’s go.”

He got out of the car and quickly led the way down the path, knife held at the ready. They followed Amy down to another opening in the woods, where she was standing just inside the tree line. There was a man fumbling with his keys in a nearby parking lot. She had to be waiting for him to drop them.

Sam came up quickly behind her and wrapped his arm around her midsection, holding the knife to her chest. “Hi, Amy.”

She stiffened, then started to turn. He relaxed his hold enough to let her move just enough to be able to see him in the darkness before he pressed the knife to her chest again, a warning. “Sam, wow,” she breathed.

“Yeah.”

“I just…” She chuckled a little. “Never thought I’d see you again. What are you doing here?”

“I think you know.”

Amy swallowed hard. “So, you got tall, huh?” she said weakly. Chrys chuckled.

“Small talk?” Sam snapped, in no mood for either of them. “Really? Let’s take a walk.”

“Sam-”

_ “Walk.” _

They went back down the path to the Impala, Chrys watching their backs and scanning the perimeter as Sam dealt with the piece of personal history in his arms. “So,” he started, “Same pattern, same victim pool… Just like when we were kids.”

“Sam,” Chrys protested. “Is this the kind of conversation we should be having in the woods?”

_ “Listen,” _ Amy insisted. “It’s not what… Look, I’m not… I’ve had the same job for the last six years. I have a house, two cats, a  _ mortgage. _ I have a normal life!”

“You call this normal?”

“Sam, what I am? I’m managing it.”

Chrys snorted behind them. “Yeah, the three dead bodies this week looks a lot like  _ managing it.” _

“It’s not like that!” Amy protested. “I’m… I’m not just some murderer. I had to.”

“Why?” Sam was desperate to understand, to have a  _ reason. _

“I can’t tell you. I just… I need you to believe me.”

“Ha, yeah,  _ no,” _ Chrys said firmly. She had a gun pointed at Amy, and though it wouldn’t kill the kitsune, it would hurt like hell. “You’re gonna take us to this ‘reason,’ and we  _ might _ come to an understanding.” She smiled tightly at the disbelief on Amy’s face. “Yeah, see, I can be reasonable, but you’re gonna have to have a good goddamn reason for killing three humans, lady.”

Amy swallowed hard. Her eyes flicked from Sam to Chrys several times before she nodded once. “Okay, yeah. Come with me, then.”

* * *

Chrys was staring in disbelief into a child’s bedroom. Amy’s kid was sleeping soundly, one skinny arm tossed across the bed.

“This is Jacob,” the kitsune said softly. “My son. I’ve built a life here, you guys. I mean, I’m in the PTA for god’s sake. I’m  _ boring.” _

“You’re still feeding,” Sam insisted quietly, as not to wake the child.

It sounded like he was protesting, prodding, like he  _ wanted _ her to be guilty, but Chrys knew better. Sam was being thorough, he wanted to make one hundred percent sure that the person who had been so significant for him as a child wasn’t a murderer.

“On the  _ dead,” _ Amy said, a little exasperated, much to Chrys’ amusement. “I’m a mortician. I know, not sexy, but, you know, health benefits. I quietly take what Jacob and I need. No one gets hurt. But it can be risky, feeding like that, especially for a kid.” She looked back into the kid’s room. “Jacob got sick. He was dying, and the only way to fight it off was-”

“Fresh meat?” Chrys guessed.

Amy nodded. “And it worked. After the last one, his fever broke.”

“Amy-” Sam said, pained.

“It’s over.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“I give you my word,” Amy whispered fiercely. “So how is spilling more blood gonna help anyone? You can still walk away from this. We all can. Sam… After what I did for you…”

Chrys rolled her eyes and finally slipped the knife she was holding back into the sheath she kept in the waistband of her jeans. “All right, look. As much as we want to let this go, you’re still…” She heaved a sigh. “You’re gonna have to leave. We won’t chase you, but my brother-in-law will, and he won’t stop once he thinks he’s got you in his sights. I’m willing to bet he’s already in town, so you have to go tonight. Wake the kid up, pack the necessities, and  _ go. _ Got me?”

Amy was staring at her with wide but determined eyes. “Done.”

Chrys turned to her soulmate, who was watching her with an unreadable look on his face. “Come on, Sammy. We’ve got a hunter to distract.”

* * *

Chrys walked up to the motel before Sam. She dodged the blow coming easily, having known what Dean was going to do. She grabbed his wrist and yanked, throwing him off balance.

“Ow!”

“Shut it,” she snapped. She released him, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared. “Was there a part of, ‘I can handle this’ that escaped you?”

He was rubbing his wrist and glaring right back. “You guys just took off! What was I supposed to do?”

“Have a little faith in us!”

Dean scowled. “Fine. Did you take care of the kitsune?”

“Yes.” Chrys lied without hesitation, and she was sure that she didn’t give anything away, but the damn Winchester knew her well enough to know, anyway.

“So you let her go? Goddammit, Chrys, this is why! This is why I couldn’t trust-”

Chrys knew that kids were her weakness. She knew that parents taking care of their little ones would always be her kryptonite, that they would always cloud her judgement, make her less wary than she should be.

But fuck Dean for thinking she couldn’t do her damn job.

She stepped forward and jabbed him in the chest with one finger. “Listen here,” she hissed. “This is what’s going to happen. You are going to go in there and talk to your brother like an  _ adult. _ You two are going to  _ work this out, _ like  _ adults. _ And you are going to  _ let the kitsune go, _ and  _ trust _ that I know the difference between  _ dangerous _ and  _ not dangerous. _ And if I think, at any point, that that is  _ not _ what’s happening,  _ my next victim is the Impala. _ Got me, Winchester?”

He paled at the threat. “You wouldn’t lay a hand on my baby.”

_ “Watch me.” _

He stared her down for a long time, but she held her ground. Eventually, he groaned. “You’re the worst,” he growled.

“Shut up and go talk to your brother.”

* * *

That night, because she knew that Dean wouldn’t leave well enough alone, she let the air out of Baby’s tires before she went to sleep.

* * *

Late, late in the night, or early in the morning, she woke to the sounds of Dean cursing in the parking lot. She smiled, turned back to bury her face in Sam’s chest, and went back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.


	55. Well, That Fucking Sucked

“Well, that fucking sucked.”

Chrys snorted as they piled into the motel room. Her back and shoulder ached where the witch, Maggie Stark, and tossed her into a wall like a ragdoll. Arguably,  _ everything _ hurt, but her back and shoulder were crying out the loudest.

She watched with narrowed eyes as Dean pulled out a flask and took a swig. Sam, too, was watching, and Dena glared when he saw Sam’s cocked eyebrow.

“Oh, give me a break.”

Sam raised his hands. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

“I will,” Chrys snapped. “Quit drinking on the damn job. You’re as bad as Bobby, Christ.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, C. It’s been a long day.”

A man who Chrys didn’t recognize stepped out of the bathroom, smiling evenly at all of them. “And it’s not over yet.”

Chrys immediately pulled the gun from her waistband and pointed it at the stranger. Dean did the same, but Sam was just staring.

“Hi, Sam, Dean, Chrysanthemum.”

_ “Ugh,” _ Chrys complained.

Sam ignored her. “Do we know you?”

The man chuckled. “Well, I definitely know  _ you. _ You’re the dead guys.” He shrugged. “Well, you will be in a minute.”

Chrys shot the man at the same time Dean did. Black liquid ran from the wounds, and after only a few moments the bullets popped out, lading on the ground with dull  _ thuds. _

The man looked up and grinned. “Sorry. You’re a bit outmatched.”

He launched forward to punch Dean in the face, sending the eldest Winchester sprawling to the floor. The stranger turned to Chrys, and she was able to dodge him a couple of times before he hit her hard in the chest, sending her into the wall again. Her back exploded in agony, leaving her breathless. The leviathan took Sam by the throat and lifted him off of the ground, pressed to the wall. Sam kicked and scrabbled at the hand holding him.

Before she could even start to recover, Chrys saw Don Stark, the other witch they’d encountered that day, standing in the doorway they’d never managed to get closed. He raised a hand, one eyebrow cocked, and she watched in amazement as the leviathan started to twitch and jerk. He fell to the ground and stayed still.

She stood shakily, as did the Winchesters. Dean looked over at the witch. “Don.”

“Thank you,” Chrys said softly. “We owe you.”

Don was still staring down at the leviathan. “Good god. What  _ is _ that thing?”

Despite the fact that they did know, Chrys answered cheerfully, “Wish we had a good answer for you.” Just saved their asses or no, they weren’t in the business of sharing information with witches.

“Finding out is on our to-do list,” Dean said evenly.

Don walked into the room and started to dig under one of the mattresses. “Find a bottomless pit and drop that thing in. Spell only lasts for a few days.”

“Uh,” Sam started. “What are you even doing here?”

“Saving your lives.” The witch held up a coin that he’d pulled from beneath the bed. “Twice.”

Chrys scowled.  _ “Seriously, _ Maggie?” Don ignored her to go to the other mattress and dig around under that.

“She was gonna kill us?” Dean asked incredulously. “We just saved your damn marriage!”

Don shrugged as he produced the other coin. “Yeah, but, to be fair, you also tried to kill her. You know how she is when she gets a bug up her ass.” He smiled. “Gotta love her, right?” At their blank stares, “Right.” He pointed to the prone man. “Bottomless pit. Ciao!” He left, closing the door gently behind him.

There were a few beats of silence before Chrys spoke. “You know what? I call the first shower.”

* * *

Several hours and three showers later, they were loading up the Impala with the leviathan and the rest of their gear. Dean was on the phone with Bobby, and Chrys listened distractedly as she organized the stuff in the trunk so she could fit the leviathan in there, too.

“Yeah,” Dean was confirming. “He’s ready for transport. I just hope you got someplace you can put him. Yeah, all right. We’ll see you soon.”

He hung up the phone and handed Chrys his bag. “We should hit the road. Everyone ready?”

She put the bag in next to the leviathan and slammed the trunk shut. “As we’ll ever be.” She made her way to the backseat, ready to sleep like the dead on the way back to South Dakota.

Unfortunately, Sam was standing with the front passenger door open, making his “Let’s Talk About our Feelings” face at Dean. “Hey,” he started, “were you, um, were you listening to the Starks tonight?”

_ I’m never going to have any peace, _ Chrys thought mournfully.  _ It’s always going to be these drama queens and their feelings talks over the roof of the Impala. What did I do to deserve this? _

Dean scoffed. “Uh, a little, when I wasn’t getting slammed into a wall or stung by bees.”

“You notice how they, uh, how they...  _ Opened up, _ got everything off their chest?”

_ Real subtle, Sammy. _

“Yeah. Kudos on selling them that shit.”

Sam frowned. “It wasn’t shit, Dean. It worked.”

Dean finally caught on and sighed heavily. “Sam, I am so very, very, very, very… Very, very tired-“

“Dean, like it or not, the stuff you don’t talk about doesn’t just go away. It builds up, like whatever’s eating at you right now.”

“There’s always something eating at me,” Dean dismissed. “That’s who I am. Something happens, I feel responsible, all right? The Lindbergh baby? That’s on me. Unemployment? My bad.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Well, then, what the hell  _ are _ you talking about?”

“I’m talking about whatever you’re not telling me!” Sam took a deep breath. “Look, Dean, it’s fine. You can unload. That’s kind of what I’m here for.”

There were a few moments of silence before Chrys rolled her eyes.  _ I have to do everything around here. _ “Are you talking about Amy?”

They both stiffened and turned to stare at her. “What about Amy?” Sam asked, his voice low and dangerous. He turned back to Dean. “Did you-“

“No,” Chrys snapped, exasperated and tired. “He just tried, calm down.”

_ “What?” _

Dean sighed. “Dammit, C.”

“Oh, shut up, like you have a leg to stand on.”

“She was a monster!”

“She was a mother!” Chrys pointed a finger at the eldest Winchester. “You don’t get to make those kinds of calls by yourself.”

He pointed at Sam. “Neither does he!”

“That’s why he didn’t!”

“Then why did you get to make it?!”

“I didn’t. Sam and I made it together. Majority rules.”

“What do you mean, ‘I don’t get to make those kinds of calls?’” Sam asked, brow furrowed.

Chrys rolled her eyes. “Sam. Baby. Level with me.” She looked up at him, sinking into his hazel eyes a little. “You’re hallucinating  _ actual _ Lucifer, Sam. I know that you’re getting a handle on them, I do, and I have faith in you, but do you see how maybe someone on the outside might be skeptical?”

The thing was, Chrys  _ did _ have faith in Sam. She knew that letting the Ponds flee was the best choice, and she didn’t regret it for a second, but she also thought she was right about Sam. She would do her best to back his play no matter what he did, but it would take time for anyone but her to have faith in him. She was all right with waiting.

She just wasn’t sure if  _ he _ would be.

He looked down at her with an unreadable expression. She kept his gaze, standing her ground, projecting calm confidence. He finally sighed. “Okay.”

Dean gaped.  _ “Okay? _ Just like that, you’re not pissy? Just… ‘Okay?’”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, I get it. I’m kind of a wild card right now. It’s going to take some time for me to be sure that I’m making the right call, anyway, and that I’m not responding to the hallucinations. It’ll be good to have Chrys checking my work, and it’ll let you rest easy knowing that someone’s watching my back.”

While Dean’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish, Chrys was suddenly drowning in love. Her Sam, her sweet, rational soulmate, who took the out she gave him and ran with it. Who was able to acknowledge,  _ finally, _ that maybe some things should be put in her hands to handle.

Apparently, emotional maturity was a turn-on.

_ Oh, he’s definitely getting laid tonight. _

Dean threw his hands in the air in exasperation.  _ “Fine,” _ he growled. “Let’s get back to Sioux Falls.”

* * *

The next morning, Chrys was up before the sun. Despite the…  _ Athletic _ activities of the night before, she was still too wired to sleep in, not with a leviathan captive and who knew how many more out there wreaking havoc.

She was wearing one of Sam’s t-shirts and a pair of her own gym shorts. She made coffee silently, and when it was done, she grabbed her cigarettes and a cup and stepped out into the crisp morning air to watch the sunrise.

It should have been peaceful, but her thoughts were a jumbled wreck, so she found little respite in her surroundings. It wasn’t until Dean came out, his own mug in hand, to sit next to her that she was able to turn her brain off for a moment.

He was wrinkling his nose and glaring at her. “All night, C?  _ All night?” _

She grinned, unrepentant. “Well… Yeah. Progress should be rewarded.”

_ “All night?” _

She chuckled. “I mean, if you’re  _ jealous, _ I’m sure I can talk Sam into-“

He threw his hand up in disgust.  _ “Gross. _ God, fuck, woman. Gross.” He snapped his fingers. “Give me a cigarette.”

“Pushy.” But she handed the pack and her lighter over.

They smoked in silence for a while until he spoke. “Gonna be rough, figuring out these leviathans.”

She shrugged. “We can do it.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Just like that, huh?”

“Just like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.  
> **Short chapter, sorry. I wanted to resolve this nonsense, and if we did that AND the next important episode, it would have been like 9K words long. And my birthday was this week, so I was slacking. ^^'


	56. Bobby Singer Sent Us

In the basement of Rufus’ cabin, Bobby filled a syringe slowly, keeping his eyes on his work. Chrys, on the other hand, was watching the leviathan they had chained to a chair. 

“Okay, Chet,” Bobby said as he finished. “Let’s see how you like a little fruit of the poison tree.”

The leviathan pretended to consider. “Isn’t that just a legal expression?”

“You’re gonna wish it was.” Without further ado, Bobby leaned down and jabbed the syringe into Chet’s thigh.

The thing didn’t even have the decency to wince. He just smacked his lips and tilted his head. “Hmm. Okay, similar finish to holy water, not as bitter as rock salt.”

“You’re hilarious,” Chrys deadpanned as Bobby went back to his work table and the Winchesters came down the stairs.

“I know.” Chet smiled over at Dean and Sam. “And how  _ are _ my two favorite meat-sicles?”

Dean scowled. “Is he still sucking air?”

“Not for lack of trying,” Chrys sneered at the creature before turning to look at the array of tools on the table in front of Bobby.

The older hunter was shrugging. “Greatest hits don’t do the trick. I’m down to B-sides and deep cuts.”

“Well, you better figure out something quick. That whammy that witch dude put on him is only gonna last for a few days. He gets his spinach back, Chrys is gonna end up having to drop a car on him just to stop him.”

The leviathan chuckled. “Actually, Edgar walked away from that car. He’s fine.”

Chrys felt her mouth drop open.  _ “What?” _

“Oh, you didn’t know? Yeah, he’s just fine. A little pissed at you, but other than that? A-okay.”

Dean was frowning again. “Why don’t you shut your fucking mouth?” The leviathan rolled his eyes.

Sam came to stand behind Chrys, warmth radiating at her back, hooking his chin over her shoulder to look at what was on the table. “Bobby, you’ve been using all this stuff and he still won’t talk?” The older hunter nodded.

Chrys turned to watch Dean pull up a chair and straddle it next to Chet.  The leviathan grinned. “The huddle over, coach?”

“How’d you find us?”

A shrug. “It was easy. I used a pattern-recognition software and a basic heuristic algorithm to track your known aliases.”

Bobby groaned. “Great, just what we need. A Mensa monster.”

Sam had turned to stand next to her, his hand still warm and comforting on her back. “Let’s start with the start. Where’d you get our aliases?”

“From your trench-coated friend, obviously. When we were all nestled in at Camp Cass, we kinda got the full download.” He shrugged again, radiating smugness. “That’s just how we do.”

“So why are you talking to us, Chet?” Bobby asked. “You’re not dumb. Why you spilling state secrets?”

Chet laughed. “‘Cause I’m not scared of you! You can’t stop me, you can’t stop any of us! We can’t be  _ killed, _ you stupid little chew toys. You  _ are _ aware that I’m the least of your concerns, right?” When he was met with silence, his eyebrows rose. “Oh. You haven’t watched the news today, have you?”

* * *

Sam watched in shock as what appeared to be exact replicas of, Dean, Chrys, and himself shot up a bank. The scene paused just right, so the three of them were all looking at the camera. There were four dead bodies in the shot with them. Dean was winking, Sam was rolling his eyes, and Chrys was blowing a kiss to the camera.

“What the fuck?” he breathed.

“Busy morning, you three?” Bobby asked dryly.

“Those sons of bitches xeroxed us!” Dean growled.

_ “How?” _ Chrys asked.

Bobby shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe one of them touched you at the hospital.”

From the basement, Chet shouted, “It was the hair! Not too hard to lift some DNA out of a motel shower drain, guys!”

Dean blinked. “You can copy people like that?” When Bobby shrugged, the eldest Winchester groaned. “Well, that’s just awesome. What’s their plan, exactly?”

“Squeeze us,” Sam answered. “Turn us into the most wanted people in America.”

“Well, that settles it,” Dean growled. “We find these ass monkeys and we kill them ourselves.”

“Wait a sec,” Bobby snapped. “Every form of law enforcement has seen your ugly mugs this morning.”

“Exactly! So what’s the point in trying to hide?”

Chrys was rolling her eyes. “Or let’s just run into their waiting arms. That’s a shit plan, Dean. We have no idea how to kill them! Or even slow them down.”

Dean turned to her. “They’re wearing our  _ faces, _ Chrys.  _ Your _ face! This is personal.”

When her big blue eyes turned onto Sam pleadingly, he had to steel himself against them. “I’m… With Dean on this one.” Those same lovely eyes narrowed dangerously, and he fought the urge to move away from her.

“Well,” Bobby said slowly. “If you’re gonna be stupid, you may as well be smart about it. You need to see a fella named Frank Devereaux.”

Sam frowned. “Who?”

The older hunter was scribbling on a piece of paper. “He’s a jackass and a lunatic, but he owes me one from back in Port Huron.” He handed the paper to Dean. “In the meantime, I’ll keep working on Chatty Cathy down here, see if I can figure out what makes him die.”

* * *

Several hours and one panic situation (when they’d been spotted and identified at a gas station before they bailed) later, they pulled up to what looked like a completely abandoned home. There were no lights on, the grass was overgrown, and the whole place looked like it was one strong breeze away from collapsing.

“Are you… Sure this is the right place?” Chrys asked skeptically.

Sam nodded. “Yeah.” He stepped forward and knocked on the door. “Frank, you in there? Frank?”

Dean tried the knob and the door opened easily. They all looked at one another warily before making their way into the house. “Frank?” Sam tried again.

The house was dark, eerie, and seemed to be completely empty. Chrys pulled her pistol from her waistband and held it down next to her thigh, but it didn’t make her feel much better.

They entered what appeared to be a study when a lamp flicked on, flooding the room with light.

“Well, well. Spider caught some flies.”

Chrys frowned and blinked as her eyes adjusted. A short, scruffy man sat in an armchair in the corner of the room, pointing a shotgun at them. He was wearing a… Sweater vest? Chrys had not once in her life been intimidated by someone wearing a sweater vest, and she didn’t damn well intend to start now.

That  _ was _ a big gun, though.

The man she assumed was Frank smirked. “Well, I’ll be damned. The Winchesters and lady. You’re on CNN right now.”

Sam’s hands were held up. “No, no, that’s not us.”

“I know. Can’t be. Unless you have a teleporter.” His beady eyes got beadier as he squinted suspiciously at them.  _ “Do _ you? Have a teleporter?”

Dean shook his head, Sam answered, “No sir, we don’t,” and Chrys rolled her eyes.

Frank seemed to take this information in stride. “Well, my condolences on the doppelgangers. Now, who sent you? NSA? The Feeb? March of Dimes?”

_ March of Dimes? _

“Uh,” Dean said after a beat, “Bobby Singer sent us.”

Frank growled, surged to his feet, and shucked the shotgun.

Dean winced. “Or not. Who?”

“He said you could help,” Sam said quickly, his hands held up placatingly. “He said you owed him.”

“From Port Huron,” Chrys supplied.

Frank sighed and the gun sagged. “Guy saves your life  _ one _ time and what, you owe him the rest of yours?”

Chrys nodded. “That’s usually how it works, yeah.”

* * *

“Now,” Frank said as he fed their IDs and paperwork into a shredder, “I know that Bobby’s into that magic hooey, but the truth is the government has been cloning people for years. Guess it was just your turn in the barrel.”

“Well, actually-” Sam began.

Dean cut him off. “Forget it, he’s rolling.”

“Yours have been busy beavers,” Frank continued, not heeding the interruptions. “You’re number two on the most wanted list. Quickest climb up the charts since Donna Summer.”

“So what should we do?” Chrys asked.

“Cuba’s nice this time of year.”

Dean shook his head. “No, we’re not hiding.”

Frank met Chrys’ eyes. “Is he always this stupid?”

“Well…”

Dean elbowed her in the side. “Look, we gotta stick around and kick a couple asses. So we just need you to get us further off the grid, but keep us on the board.”

Frank sighed like he’d expected that. “Well, first thing we gotta do is wipe all your old aliases.” He pointed at Dean. “No more rock shoutouts. It’s Tom and John Smith from now on.” Chry snickered, but Frank continued. “And no plastic. Cash only. And change your phones on a very frequent non-schedule schedule, you understand? Oh, and try to stay out of view of the two hundred million cameras that the government has access to, ‘kay?”

“Two hundred million?” Dean said faintly as they caught the phones Frank tossed to them.

“Big brother,” the man commiserated, “He has many eyeballs, my friend. You see a place that even  _ looks _ like it can afford security…”

Chrys realized he was digging through one of their bags. She frowned. “Hey, what-”

Frank pulled out Sam’s laptop and gestured with it. “This yours?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

Frank promptly turned and smashed the computer against the desk. Several times. Probably passed into overkill in Chrys’ opinion.

“What… Hey… What was that?!” Sam squawked.

The man ignored all three hunters to pull another laptop off of a shelf and hand it to Sam, who blinked. “Uh... Thank you? I guess?”

“You’re welcome. You owe me five grand. Cash.”

_ “What?” _ Sam and Dean asked in unison. Chrys rolled her eyes.

“Unless you wanna go comparison shop at the mall, sweet cheeks,” Frank sneered. “Say ‘hi’ to the cops for me.” He grabbed Dean by the jacket and guided him forcefully to stand in front of a wall where a blue sheet was draped to lay flat. “Let’s Blue Steel you up some new ID, Mr. Smith.”

* * *

Several hours later, they had discovered that their leviathan doubles were methodically hitting towns where the Winchesters had saved someone. They were on the way to St. Louis to cut them off when Bobby called.

“Chopping their heads off won’t kill them,” he said over speakerphone, “but it’ll slow them down pretty good. Until they fuse back up, anyhow.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess,” Sam said slowly. “I mean, assuming we can even get close to them.”

“Believe me, I don’t want you walking right up to them, either. I’m still looking for something you can shoot at them.”

“Good times,” Dean grumped. “Thanks, Bobby.”

Over the phone, a muffled woman’s voice could be heard. “Hey, you take mayo, right, Bobby?”

Dean grinned. “You got a chick over there, Bobby?”

“What?” For the first time that she’d ever heard, the older hunter sounded unsure to Chrys’ ears.

She laughed. “Are you even  _ working, _ Richard Gere?

“Aw, both of you shut up, idjits.”

Chrys laughed out loud, and the Winchesters shared a smile.

“Where are you kids off to next?” Bobby asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

Chrys decided to let him. “St. Louis.”

There was a beat of silence, then, “It’s too late. They hit St. Louis already. Pumpkin and Honneybunny’d a diner there.”

Dean stared at the phone, risking all of their lives, crestfallen. “Connor’s Diner?”

Bobby sounded surprised. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Lucky guess,” Dean moped. “All right, so much for that.”

“Where next?” Chrys asked.

“Uh… Ankeny, Iowa.”

* * *

They were walking down the street in Ankeny when they saw the leviathans. Sam was telling her about the case they worked there so many years ago.

_ “The _ Hook Man? Like, boyfriend hanging upside down, scraping the roof of the car  _ Hook Man?” _

He nodded. “The very same one.”

Dean smirked. “Ask him about the preacher’s daughter, C.”

She grinned and raised her eyebrows at Sam, absolutely  _ delighted _ when his cheeks darkened in a blush. “Tell me about the preacher’s daughter, Sammy.”

He opened his mouth, but before he could speak Dean grabbed his arm, stopping all of them. “Shit! Look!” He dragged both of them around the corner, shoved them behind a building, and peeked around it. “There they are.”

Chrys met Sam’s eyes, then they crowded around Dean to look in the same direction. There, parked across the street from the building they were hiding behind, was a black Impala almost identical to Dean’s. Inside were their three doppelgangers.

“Oh, no,” Sam said, dread in his voice. “This is all sorts of wrong.”

Chrys tilted her head. “Does my hair always look like that?”

Dean was focused on the car. “Those are nice wheels. Tell you what, when this is over, I’m stealing those rims.”

Chrys wrinkled her nose as she pulled her cell phone out and hit Bobby’s speed dial number. “When this is over, I’m getting a haircut.”

The older hunter answered on the first ring. “Yeah?”

“Bobby, we’ve got eyes on them.”

“What?”

Chrys was watching the leviathan version of herself cuddle up to the leviathan version of Sam.  _ We do not look like that. _ “It’s like looking in a funhouse mirror,” she growled.

Dean shrugged. “Dunno, they nailed you and Sammy.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Bobby said on the phone.

“Fuck you, Winchester,” she hissed before speaking into the phone again. “Tell me you’ve got something? Because if not, we’re gonna have to get in close.”

The leviathans moved and the three of them followed, inching along as the monsters walked down the street.

“Look, just hang back for now,” Bobby insisted.

“I dunno, we’ve got to-”

Before she could get further, a police car with a wailing siren screeched to a halt in front of her. The officers jumped out, pointing guns at the three of them. “Freeze! Hands in the air!’

“Shit,” Chrys snapped as she held her hands up, phone still clutched in her right one. She heard Bobby calling for them over the line.

“Drop the phone!” the officer snapped. She obeyed, then stepped on the cell phone, effectively shattering it and ending the call.

She smiled. “Whoops.”

“Cuff them!” the cop snarled, holstering his gun to yank her around.

“Hey!” Sam was glaring daggers at the officer manhandling her.

“This is a big misunderstanding,” Dean said as he was being handcuffed. “Big, big mistake. The guys you want are-”

“Shut up!” the cop growled. “We know exactly who we want.”

_ Come on, Bobby, _ she prayed as she was dragged toward the police car,  _ find something for us. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.  
> **Also, I'm officially abolishing any sort of posting schedule. It just stresses me out, and I do much better (and tend to write more frequently) if I don't have one. Sorry, guys.


	57. Well and Truly Fucked

“Look,” Sam insisted desperately, “You’re making a mistake. The real killers are back at the diner, okay?”

The sheriff scoffed. “That the best you can do?”

Chrys rolled her eyes on the other side of the officer. “Ugh, fucking Barney Fife over here.”

_ “Helping or hurting, Chrys?” _ Sam hissed She just rolled her eyes.

The deputy who had Dean’s arm in what looked to be an iron grip dragged him in. “I want my phone call,” Dean snapped, trying to shake off the hand that was holding him.

“Oh,” the sheriff drawled. “There’ll be a phone call. To the FBI.” He nodded to the deputy holding Dean. “Take him to cell number one, the girl to number two,” he said, indicating Dean and Chrys. He handed Sam over to another deputy. “Take him to the interview room. Once they’re separate and secure, you boys can call it a night.”

As the deputy dragged him away, Sam struggled a little. The guy was deceptively strong. “You’re making a mistake!” he shouted. He watched helplessly as Dean and Chrys were dragged away from him. Neither went peacefully.

* * *

Dean watched dispassionately as Chrys kicked at the bars of her cell. “This is stupid,” she growled.

“Aw, they don’t know any better, C.”

“Shut up.”

The sheriff walked into the room and toward the cells. Dean leaped to his feet and grabbed the bars of his cell. “Hey! I have a right to my phone call!”

The sheriff scoffed. “A  _ right? _ You yahoos killed  _ how _ many people the last couple of days, and you want me to hop-to on your rights?”

“Oh,  _ Jesus fucking Christ.” _ Chrys’ patience was clearly worn thin.

“Look,” Dean said softly. “Please, we didn’t… Just give me one,  _ one _ phone call.”

The sheriff stared at him and Dean kept his own gaze steady. He couldn’t even count how many times just being honestly innocent had apparently shown in his eyes, enough so that officers of the law would believe him, anyway.

The sheriff sighed and went to get the phone. He dialed Bobby’s phone number when Dean rattled it off and held it up to the cell, just on the other side of the bars. Not a perfect situation, but Dean could deal.

Bobby answered. “Kids?”

“Bobby, we got popped.”

“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as-“

Dean cut him off. “No, no, there’s no time. Look, we saw them, they saw us. So,  _ we _ are coming to get  _ us.” _ He met Chrys’ eyes behind the sheriff, and despite how angry she was, he could see the concern beneath it. “You read me?” he asked the phone. “Tell me you got something.”

“There’s a chemical… Sodium borate.”

Dean scoffed. “Okay, yeah, let me get Mr. Wizard on speed dial.”

“No, you jackass, it ain’t as weird as it sounds.”

“It’s in cleaners,” Chrys said, loud enough for Bobby to hear her over the phone.

“’Atta girl.” The pride shone through Bobby’s voice. “Just look for anything with the word Borax on it.”

“You want me to  _ Desperate Housewife _ them?” Dean asked incredulously.

“No, just trust me. It burns them bad enough to slow them down. So get the strongest you can find. Hear me?”

Dean nodded, still confused. “Borax. Burns. Got it.”

“Then douse them, get close, and then chop their heads off.”

“Got it.”

“And keep the heads separate!”

Dean sighed gratefully. “Bobby, you’re a genius. Thanks. I-“ The phone was snapped closed in his face. He glared at the sheriff. “What was that for?”

“Borax? Decapitation? What kind of sickos are you and your friends?” He turned and started to walk away.

“Hey!” Chrys snapped as he walked by her cell. ”If you don’t get every damn drop of Borax in this place right now, we’re all gonna bite it. Got me?”

The sheriff was staring at her with wonder. “You’re crazier than I thought.”

When the sheriff left, Chrys looked back at him and shrugged. “I tried.”

“We gotta get to Sammy.”

She glared at him. “I know that, idiot.”

“Hey, don’t get bitchy with me. I’m just as stuck as you are.”

She groaned and flopped down onto the cot in her cell. “I know, I know, can it.”

They sat in silence for a while, both trying to find answers, when the sheriff came back in. He looked pale and sweaty, his face slack with shock. Dean and Chrys both scrambled to their feet. “Hey,” Dean said. “What is it? What happened?”

“I… It’s just… I don’t know what I just saw.”

“Let me out of here,” Dean said. “If you listen to us, we’ll live.”

The sheriff nodded shakily and moved forward to unlock Dean’s cell, the turned to do the same to Chrys’. Even though they were short on time, Dean waited impatiently for Chrys to be freed, and once she was, he swept her into a hard embrace, pressing his face into her hair.

“Sap,” she griped, but squeezed him back just as hard.

Once he let her go, Dean turned back to the sheriff. “All right, keep your head down, get to the supply closet, and get anything that says Borax on it. Bring it here. Now, go.”

* * *

Sam was wondering if he could pull one of the screws from the table he was cuffed to to free himself when Dena walked in. He sat up straight. “Dean!”

Dean shook his head. “I’m not your brother. But I  _ am _ Dean adjacent.” The thing swung the chair that was on the other side of the table around and straddled it. “I just want to let you know how much I’ve really grown to hate you and your merry band of assholes. I just… Don’t  _ get it.” _ Sam frowned, but the leviathan continued. “You could be anything. You’re strong, you’re uninhibited. You’re smart enough, believe it or not. But you’re so caught up in being good and taking care of each other.”

“Why do you care?”

The thing slammed his hand down on the table. “Because it pisses me off! You’re wasting a perfectly good opportunity to subjugate the weak!”

The thing leaned forward earnestly, and it looked so disturbingly like Dean that it was hard for Sam to convince himself not to listen.

“Here’s the deal. Dean… He thinks you’re nutballs. He thinks you’re off your game.” He paused. “And he’s got a thing for your girl.”

Sam rolled his eyes.  _ Chrys and Sam would kill each other in a week. _ “You gonna kill me, or is this some sort of ‘play with your food’ bullshit?”

“Dean” held his hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. You know, I guess that’s why Dean never told you that he killed Amy.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, shock making his mind blank for just a moment before it started racing again. He settled his features into an impassive mask as he thought.

_ Killed Amy? Did he kill Amy? No. Chrys said she wouldn’t let him. I trust Chrys. She wouldn’t lie to me. Dean might, if he killed Amy, to protect my feelings. Chrys doesn’t give a damn about my feelings. She wouldn’t lie to me, she let Amy go, because Amy has a kid, and Chrys trusts me. _

_ … Well, all right then. _

The leviathan frowned. “Aw, come on, man. I been sitting on that one. I like my meat a little bitter. There’s just… Nothing?”

Before Sam could retort, the door to the interrogation room flew open to show Chrys. She flung liquid at the leviathan, who started to scream as his skin smoked off. Chrys grunted as she heaved an ax around and decapitated the thing. They watched together as Dean’s head rolled.

“That was satisfying as all hell,” she said smugly.

_ “Eat me, Summers,” _ Dean said fervently as he walked in behind her.

She chuckled and moved away so the very shaken sheriff could unlock Sam’s handcuffs. “So,” he said, “the FBI is on the way.”

Dean shifted uneasily. “Yeah, listen, about that…”

The sheriff shook his head. “Whatever I can do to make that easier for you kids… Especially if it involves lying about  _ everything _ I just saw.”

“Well, I was hoping you could help us kind of… Be dead,” Dean said encouragingly.

“You know, ‘quote-unquote,’” Chrys chirped.

The sheriff nodded. “Yeah. I should be able to swing that.”

* * *

Later, as they loaded the heads of their leviathan doubles into the hatchback that Frank had lent them, Chrys was keeping a close eye on Sam. He’d been pensive, but not necessarily upset or unresponsive, while they’d cleaned up the sheriff’s office.  She wasn’t overly concerned, but him being too far into his own head wasn’t really a good thing anymore.

Dean was bitching about driving a hatchback and didn’t particularly seem to need any response to his complaints, so she took advantage of the opportunity to pull Sam aside. “Okay there, handsome?”

He blinked down at her, but smiled a little and nodded. “Yeah, I’m all right.”

She narrowed her eyes. “If you lie to me, I’ll kick your ass, Sammy.”

He laughed and held his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know, but I’m fine. I wouldn’t lie to you, Chrys.”

_ “Bullshit.” _

He laughed again. “Okay, okay, maybe I would, but nothing’s  _ wrong.” _

She tilted her head a bit. “Well, you’re thinking awfully hard about  _ nothing, _ then.”

He smiled. “I was just… The leviathan, the one that looked like Dean?”

“The one whose head I cut off,” she said warmly.

“Yeah, that one. He, uh… It told me that Dean killed Amy. The kitsune.”

Chrys blanched, feeling herself start to panic. “No, Sam, he didn’t. I stopped him, he didn’t even get  _ close-“ _

His big hands on her arms stopped her, and she glared as he chuckled. “Chrys, beautiful, I know. I know he didn’t, I know you didn’t let him.”

She frowned. “So what’s wrong?”

He grinned, a genuine smile on his tired, beloved face, and she felt lighter for it.  _ “Nothing. _ Isn’t that great? I trust you, I know you wouldn’t let that happen. You…” His smile faded, and the look on his face, the naked adoration in his eyes, made her heart thump hard in her chest. “You’re always looking out for us,” his voice was soft with affection, “always helping us out. We… Chrys, we’d be well and truly fucked without you.”

She felt her face heating, and it took her a second to realize she was honest to God  _ blushing. _ “Well, I don’t know about that,” she murmured.

He pulled her forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- All feedback is appreciated. The good, the bad, and the ugly, I welcome it all.  
> \- Also, come see me on [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kbeautimous) I only bite if asked nicely.


	58. Life is Short, Right?

If he was being honest with himself, a habit he tried very much to avoid, Dean was a little hurt.

For  _ years, _ the trip to Vegas was just for him and Sam. It was  _ sacred, _ no matter what else was going on in their lives (which was often quite a bit), they’d always made their way up to Vegas. It was just for a few days, and it was pretty blatant hedonism under the guise of “brotherly bonding,” but it meant something to Dean. He’d thought it meant something to Sam, too.

“Ugh,” Chrys complained. “Are you gonna sulk the whole time? Because I can find another bar to go to.”

He glared at her. “Can it, Summers.”

Sam had invited Chrys to go with him on his hippie camping trip, or wherever it was he was going, but she’d looked at him like he’d suggested she start eating small children. “Uh… No, Sam, that’s all right. You go ‘find yourself,’ Dean and I will catch up with you later.”

Which was how Dean found himself in a bar drinking with his honorary sister-in-law in Vegas, instead of enjoying the strip with his brother.

“What’s he gotta find out there, anyway?” he asked sullenly.

Chrys rolled her eyes. “You know Sam. He’s gotta go have a teenage angst moment every few months or he stops being a real boy.”

His phone went off, and Dean chuckled at Chrys’ words as he pulled it out. “I guess you’re right, just ticked.”

“You’re always ticked at Sam for some reason or another.”

He frowned down at his phone.

 **From: Sam  
** **348 Twain Ave. WEAR FED SUIT!** **Don’t bring Chrys.**

Dean snorted. “Sammy just sent me an address, I guess to meet him at.” He looked up at Chrys. “He doesn’t want me to bring you.”

Something flashed in her blue eyes, but she smiled sunnily. “Aw. That’s not really up to him, is it?”

* * *

Chrys was still grumbling as the pulled into the parking lot of  _ A Little White Chapel, _ the address Sam had sent Dean. “Don’t bring Chrys, my ass,” she muttered.

“Yeah, yeah, you do what you want,” Dean said, glaring at the chapel. “Wonder what this is?”

“Doesn’t look like camping to  _ me.” _ Maybe there was an explanation that wouldn’t make her want to smack Sam, but she doubted it. Most things made her want to smack one Winchester or the other. She followed Dean in without complaint, though.

They walked down a white hallway, both of them obediently dressed in their Fed suits. One of the lights at the end flickered, and Chrys drew her gun at the same time that Dean did. He started to open the double doors at the end of the hall, but Sam pulled them open from the inside before he got a chance.

Chrys almost dropped her gun in shock. Sam was wearing a  _ tuxedo, _ not a Fed suit. His long hair was combed neatly back, and he had a pink boutonniere pinned to his chest.

Sam smiled at his brother and motioned to the gun. “It’s okay, you don’t need that. Come-” Before he finished, he caught sight of Chrys. “Uh…”

“Hi, Sam.”

He winced. “Hey, Chrys. You, uh, you weren’t really supposed to be here.”

She tucked her gun into the holster under her shoulder with a tight smile. “Yeah, that’s what I heard. Lucky for both of us, I ignored it.” She stepped forward to push her way past both brothers. She smirked when they followed her.

“I thought you were out, uh, becoming one with the land, or some shit,” Dean said behind her.

“Yeah, I was, uh, doing something.”

Chrys stood in the middle of the room, glaring around. There was an altar, the aisle, and it was all… Hideous. Everything was bright colors and obnoxious, “romantic” themes. It made her eyes hurt a little.

_ If we ever got married, it would be in a courthouse. _

“Doing what?” Dean demanded.

“Uh… I’m, uh. I’m in love.”

Dean met Chrys’ eyes, then they both looked at Sam again. “Yeah, Sammy, I know,” Dean said slowly. “Chrys  _ lives _ with us, you moron.”

Sam turned apologetic eyes onto her. “Well, uh, no.”

Chrys’ eyes narrowed and her blood ran cold. “Excuse me.”

He looked earnest. “Look, I know this is kind of sudden, and kind of, well, unfair to you. But life is short, right?”

Chrys felt her heart start to ache. “And what, exactly, is kind of sudden, Sammy?”

“I, uh. I got married!”

Chrys’ mind went completely, perfectly blank.

* * *

Dean blinked, then stared at his brother incredulously. “You  _ what?” _ He looked over at Chrys, but the shock on her face spoke volumes. If Sam really  _ had _ gotten married, it wasn’t to Chrys.

And that  _ pissed Dean off. _

“What the  _ fuck, _ Sam? To who?”

A woman entered the room in a wedding gown, bouquet in hand, her face covered with a veil. Just the sight of her made Dean uneasy, and it was compounded when she lifted the veil and smiled beatifically.

_ “Becky?” _

* * *

Chrys was having an out-of-body experience, she was sure of it. Even if she wasn’t, her left eye was twitching incessantly.

“Shouldn’t she have asked for my permission or something?” Dean hissed.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You want her to ask you for my hand?”

“I just-”

“It would have been nice if she had asked  _ someone,” _ Chrys snarled. Anger was starting to buzz beneath her skin, burning so hot it was making her dizzy. It was kind of comforting. Anger, she could deal with. Heartbreak? Not as easy.

Her eye was still twitching, though.

Sam had the absolute  _ nerve _ to still look apologetic. “Chrys, I know this is hard, but if something good’s happening, I gotta jump on it. Now, today. Uh, period.”

She snarled deep in her throat and felt a hard arm wrap around her waist when she lunged for Sam. “Chrys,” Dean’s voice was deep, cautionary in her ear. “Come on, chill, C.”

She yanked away from him, but didn’t try to attack anyone again. Dean was still glaring at the new, happy couple. “Are you even sure that she’s  _ her?” _ he asked.

“Yep!” Becky chirped. Chrys growled again, and the girl flinched, but pulled the sleeve of her wedding gown  _ (wedding gown?!) _ up to show the cut on her arm. “Salt, holy water, everything. Not a monster, just the right girl for Sam.”

“Are you, now?” Chrys asked through gritted teeth.

Becky smiled sympathetically. “I know this must be terribly difficult for you, Chrysa-”

“Becky, you’re going to want to shut the fuck up  _ right the fuck now.” _

“Chrys,” Sam said quickly. “I know this is hard to swallow, and I had the same opinion that you did, but once we got past the whole book thing, I found out that she’s great.”

“And what about the  _ soulmate thing, _ Sam?” Chrys snapped, her hands trembling in the hard fists she’d clenched them into.

“Chrys, I-”

“Ma’am?” A gentleman in a suit was addressing Becky, an envelope in his hand. “Your bill?”

“Of course!” she said enthusiastically, shooting nervous glances at Chrys as she darted away.

_ She’d better be fucking nervous, I am going to tear her limb from limb. _

“Look,” Sam said. “If you guys can’t be supportive, then… I guess you’ll just have to meet up with us when you can.”

_ “Excuse me?” _ Dean sounded just as angry as Chrys was.

“I just-”

Chrys was  _ completely done _ with this bullshit. She stepped forward, fisted her hands in Sam’s tuxedo, and dragged him down to kiss him hard. Once she was done (though he hadn’t reciprocated, which made her heart hurt even worse), she went up on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “I’m going to go right now, but I’m going to find out what’s going on, and you keep this moment in mind when I come for you, yeah?” Before he could respond, Chrys turned to see Becky glaring daggers at her. Chrys plastered as sincere a smile as she could on her face. “Becky!” she said. “Becky, let’s talk.”

“Uh-”

“Just a girl talk,” Chrys assured her, stepping away from Sam. “Just kind of a ‘good for you,’ ‘to the victor go the spoils’ type of thing.”

Becky looked nervous, which was the smartest thing she’d done in the last several minutes. “Oh… Kay?” She squeaked when Chrys grabbed her arm, but didn’t bitch about her grip being too tight, which was good, because Chrys would have snapped it in half. 

Once she got the girl far enough away, Chrys twirled her around and got in her face. “Look,  _ Becky,” _ she whispered, “I don’t know what you did to Sam, but I’m gonna find out, okay? And once I undo it, I’m going to find you, and I am going to kick your bony, crazy ass. You hear me?”

Becky glared up at her, and there was not  _ nearly _ enough fear there as far as Chrys was concerned. “You can’t talk to me like that! I’m Sam’s  _ wife.” _

“And he’s about to be a  _ widower,” _ she promised, gearing herself up to fight.

The arm came around her waist again, though, and she fought as Dean pulled her away. “Come on, hot stuff,” Dean grunted, clearly unhappy as well.

“Let me go!”

“Chrys,” Dean snapped, pulling her out of the chapel after him. “Something is  _ obviously _ going on. We’re gonna call Bobby, we’re gonna figure it out, and we’re gonna fix it.”

“And then I’m going to  _ beat the shit out of her.” _

“And  _ then _ you’re going to beat the shit out of her.”

* * *

“This is stupid.”

Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Chrys had been  _ impossible _ to deal with since they’d left the chapel.  “We need to see if she’s part of this.”

“I think it’s  _ pretty fucking obvious _ that she is,” she snarled.

Before he could argue anymore, the door to the apartment they’d found in Delaware opened to reveal Sam. He looked at them warily. Dean smiled and handed him the unwrapped box he’d carried up here.  _ Chrys put a bow on it, at least, that’s fine. _ “Look, this is us, being supportive.”

“This is  _ Dean _ being supportive,” Chrys snapped.

Sam took the box, but looked at Chrys sympathetically. Dean had to admit that if he’d been in Chrys’ position, that particular look would get pretty old. “Chrys, I-”

“What’s going on, love muffin?” Becky’s voice called from behind Sam.

_ “Love muffin?” _ Chrys sounded a little horrified, but a lot more furious.

Dean groaned. “Oh, Jesus.” He turned to her. “Can you chill for a minute?”

“No.”

Sam sighed. “Chrys-”

Dean held his hand up. “Just don’t, Sam, okay? Chrys has every right to be pissed off right now.”

_ “Goddamn right I do.” _

“Shut it, woman.”

“What’s this?” Becky chirped, coming to stand next to Sam. She wrapped her arm around his waist, and Dean watched as Chrys stared at that arm predatorily.

_ She’s going to kill Becky, and I might let her. _ “Well, Becky, we’re still a little worried,” he said amiably.

Sam frowned. “Dean, she’s my  _ wife. _ You guys don’t have to be worried! I’m happy!”

“You’re not even acting like yourself, Sam!” Dean protested.

“How?”

“Oh, let’s see,” Chrys said tightly. “You  _ married some bitch.” _

Becky gasped. “We are  _ happy, _ you, you,  _ shrew.” _

Chrys jerked forward, but Dean was no stranger to the woman standing next to him, and he caught her again. It wasn’t easy, because he may have been bigger than her, but she was probably  _ crazier _ than he was, so it took some doing to restrain her. “Come on, Chrys, don’t let her win like that.”

“Oh, she won’t win,” Chrys said darkly.

“You know what?” Sam said. “What Becky and I have is real. And if you can’t accept that, that’s your problem, not ours.”

Dean glared at his brother over his shoulder. “Or maybe she’s part of whatever’s going on in this town! The people whose dreams are coming true and then dying! Or didn’t you notice?”

“Well, at first, we thought crossroads demon-” Becky started.

Dean ignored her, because he still had an armful of struggling Chrys. He spoke only to Sam. “Look, if you really do care about her, I’d be worried. Because people who do get their little fantasies or whatever seem to end up dead pretty quick.”

Sam didn’t seem to be having any of it. “You know,  _ I _ went after  _ her, _ Dean.” Chrys gasped and stilled in his arms. “Yeah, maybe that’s what’s bugging you. That I’m moving on with my life. I don’t need you guys anymore.”

Dean felt himself start to go numb from shock.  _ Why… Why’d he have to say that, specifically? _ Sam always had known where to hit Dean the hardest, and that would  _ always _ be not being needed.

“You bastard,” Chrys breathed. She’d stopped struggling, and now she slipped her hand into Dean’s. He realized he’d stopped breathing and was just staring at his brother in horror. “You’re going to pay for that, Sam,” Chrys vowed, then turned her cold stare to Becky. “You, too, Rosen, because I know this is your fault, and I  _ will _ be getting my recompense.”

Dean followed Chrys as she tugged him down the hallway from the apartment. She was already pulling her phone out and dialing Bobby’s number. “We’re gonna need backup if we have a rogue demon,” she said fiercely, “And you and I are basically useless right now, so it’s gonna have to be good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Feedback gets my motor running.  
> \- Come see me on [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kbeautimous)  
> \- This chapter was supposed to be funny, and it ended up being more angsty than I planned on. *shrug* Oh, well. Hope you enjoyed!


	59. Heartbreak Can Do Funny Things

Chrys was certain that Bobby wouldn’t fuck with them, not like this, not in this kind of situation. She knew he’d heard how angry (upset) she was on the phone, and she knew he’d already intuited how affected Dean was. So,  _ surely, _ he wouldn’t fuck with them now?    


Right?

As she stared at the skinny hunter across the table, though, she wasn’t so sure. The tenseness radiating from Dean next to her told her that he felt the same.   


Chrys was still furious at Sam for what he’d said to Dean. Oh, sure, she was pretty pissed on her own behalf, but she suspected his actions were a result of a spell, or a demon deal, or something. No matter what had happened, though, it didn’t excuse his words.   


It wasn’t that Chrys didn’t like this new guy, although she didn’t. Hell, half the time she didn’t like either of the Winchesters, and they all worked fine together. She just had a deep mistrust of people who were so… Cheerful, optimistic,  _ happy. _ What kind of bullshit had to be going on in one’s head to make a person so goddamn  _ upbeat _ all the time? It was suspicious.   


The hunter in front of them, Garth Fitzgerald the fourth, turned the page of the newspaper he was reading and laughed out loud. “Oh, Marmaduke,” he said affectionately, “you’re crazy.”   


Chrys scowled. “What the shit?”

* * *

Dean wasn’t sure what was going on in his head as he sat in the waiting room to talk to who they thought was the next victim. On one side of him, Garth sat, radiating sunshine and happiness or what the fuck ever. On the other side sat Chrys, who was the picture of resentment and “don’t fucking touch me.”

It was tense.

The victim’s wife was bitching at his secretary. “Are you  _ trying _ to humiliate me? It’s Marsha with an ‘s-h-a,’ not a ‘c-i-a,’” she snarled before turning on her heel and walking away.

“She’s a delight,” Chrys grumbled, and Dean nodded in agreement.

Before they could get up to go talk to the guy, Sam and Becky walked out of the main office. Becky was furiously scribbling notes, and Sam was smiling and thanking the secretary.

Garth brightened. “Hey, is that your-“

“Becky!” Chrys said in a too-bright, brittle voice as she stood and stalked toward the couple. The girl’s head whipped around to stare wide-eyed at Chrys, who was stalking toward them. 

“Awkward,” Garth said sympathetically. Dean ignored him to follow Chrys, anticipating bloodshed.

Sam, apparently, was thinking along the same lines, because he stepped between the two women. “Hi, guys,” he said with a smile.

Dean waved awkwardly. “Heya.”

There was a beat of tense silence, then Sam spoke again. “Well, there’s, uh, no point in going in. That guy’s clean.”

“Is that so?” Chrys grit out.

Sam beamed. “Positive. Becky grilled him like a pro. She’s a real natural.”

Dean could feel Chrys’ eye start to twitch from where he stood. “That’s great,” he said tightly.

“We’re doing very well,” Becky snipped.

Dean lunged at the same time that Chrys did. He managed to snag her around her waist and haul her back against him. Again, she was smaller than him, but she was much, much crazier, so it was a bit of a struggle to hold her. He jerked his head to indicate the door. “You guys, uh, you should go.”

“Dean Winchester, I swear to Christ-“

Sam was eyeing Chrys warily. “Yeah, I, uh-“

Chrys did a little twist with her hips and almost got free. Dean cursed and readjusted his grip and pressed his lips to her ear. “Get your  _ shit _ together, Summers, or I  _ will _ knock your ass out and leave you in the room,” he hissed. She stilled, but she was still tense, and if looks could have killed, Becky would have been dead on the spot.

Garth came to stand next to them, and he patted Chrys’ arm before Dean could warn him. She did not, however, tear Garth’s hand off and make him eat it like Dean thought she would. She didn’t relax, but she didn’t hurt anyone, so he counted it as a win.

“Chrys has been going through some stuff,” Garth said gently.

“I’ll bet,” Becky sneered.

“Watch it, bitch,” Dean snapped, his patience absolutely gone. “I’m about two goddamn minutes from letting her go and tear you apart.”

“Dean,” Sam said severely.

“Maybe it’s best if y’all hit the road,” Garth said amiably. “Don’t want any trouble here, now, and Chrys is having trouble controlling her emotions. Heartbreak can do funny things to a person.”

Sam nodded and led a tight-lipped Becky away. The sight made Dean’s heart ache, but he stowed his own shit and turned to Chrys, who sighed heavily and met his gaze.

“Sorry,” she muttered, her eyes dropping down from his.

He ran a hand down his face. “We gotta work this case, C.”

“I know.”

“We’re not gonna get him back if we don’t keep a goddamn level head.”

“I know.”

Dean pointed to Garth. “That’s why Bobby sent him. ‘Cause he knew we wouldn’t be able to do it.”

“Well, he was kinda right,” Garth said evenly.

“Shut it, Fitzgerald.”

Chrys heaved a sigh. “Dean, I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’ll… Keep it together.” Her eyes narrowed. “I just hate her, and I  _ hate _ knowing that she’s got him so fucking twisted around that he thinks he wants whatever it is they’re doing together.”

Dean wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Garth said cheerfully, clapping his hands together. “Best way to save Sam is to solve the case, so let’s get to work!”

Dean didn’t trust the little dude, but his optimism was at least keeping them afloat, so he shut his mouth and led the way out.

* * *

Chrys approached Marsha Burrows, trying to keep her game face on.  _ Forget Becky. Focus on solving the case, on saving Sam. _

“Mrs. Burrows?” The woman turned around and Chrys smiled. “Hi.”

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, we’re doing a story on your husband’s promotion, and I wanted to ask you a few questions?”

Marsha’s face was closed off and suspicious as she began to turn away. “I’m sorry, I can’t today. If you schedule it with his secretary-“

Chrys grabbed her arm to stop her. “Okay, you know what? I’m trying to save your ass.”

Marsha’s eyebrows rose. “Are you threatening me?”

“No,” Dean said soothingly. “No, she’s pointing out a pattern. Look, we know that something… Weird… Happened to get him promoted. And we know that you had something to do with it.”

Her face closed off. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now leave me alone, or do I have to call security?”

* * *

Sam stood in his new apartment  _ (new apartment!) _ looking through Becky’s research, frowning. “No, no, no, something’s not adding up.”

He felt his wife’s hand run up and down his back soothingly. “I’m sure we’ll get a break.” 

He heard her turn away to start typing on her phone and he smiled, still looking down at the research. Far from vexing, her habit of updating her six Twitter followers on their every move was…  _ Endearing. _ He hadn’t realized before, how passionate Becky was. He was disgusted with himself for ever having thought of her as obsessive or strange.

_ I’ll just have to make it up to her, _ he thought to himself fiercely.

Before he could think of a good plan to do that, a sharp, piercing pain shot through his head. He grunted and bent over. “Ah, shit.”

It was like a fog was lifting. He looked around at a shockingly brightly colored apartment, frowning at the overly flowery decoration.  _ What the fuck? _ He turned to look for Chrys or Dean, and was greeted with the infinitely less comforting sight of Becky.

“Becky? What… What’s happening?”

She smiled nervously. “Aw, don’t you remember? We’re married!”

That information made absolutely no sense to Sam. “I’m… I’m gonna call Dean.” He turned back to the desk to look for his phone. A sudden, explosive pain flared off in the back of his head, and everything went dark before he found it.

* * *

When Sam woke up, it took him a moment to realize that he was restrained. He was tied spread-eagle on a strange bed, in a strange bedroom, a blanket covering him up to his chest. When he looked around, Becky was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking anxious.

_ Chrys is going to kill her, _ was his first real, rational thought.

“Sam?” Becky asked. “Do you feel concussion-y? How many fingers am I holding up?”

Sam just glared at her. “Where am I?” He yanked at the restraints on his wrists. “What the  _ fuck _ is going on?”

Becky looked nervous again. “Sam, just… Calm down.”

_ “Calm down? _ You hogtied me to…” He blanched. “Becky… Why…” He swallowed. “Why am I not wearing any pants?”

“They’re very constricting?” It sounded like a question.

Sam groaned in defeat.

She held her hands up defensively. “Don’t worry! I didn’t do anything weird! I was… Helping.”

“Let me go,” he snapped. “Now!”

She blatantly ignored him. “Are you thirsty? Or do you need a bottle to… You know, tinkle? It’s okay if you do,” she assured, “I can help.”

_ She’s bonkers, _ Sam marveled. Completely insane.

He was interrupted by a beeping from the other room. Becky jumped to her feet, her facing lighting up. “Finally!” She hurried out of the room, ignoring Sam’s calls for her to stay in the room.

She didn’t close the door, so he heard everything.

“Where have you  _ been?” _

“I got your messages. Problem?”

_ “Big _ problem. I’m at my parents’ cabin. I’ve got Sam tied to a bed. I’m out of elixir! I need a refill, okay? This isn’t the honeymoon I had in mind. Well, some of it is, but not in this context.” Sam’s blood ran cold, but Becky wasn’t done talking. “And is it just me, or is this stuff wearing off faster and faster?”

“Becky… Breathe.”

“Do you know we haven’t even consummated our marriage?” she hissed. “We were taking it slow, ‘cause true love is forever, but everything just feels…  _ Weird _ now.”

“All right. Meet me in an hour.”

There was the beep of a video call ending, and then Becky came back into the room. Sam glared at her. “So you dosed me with a love potion.”

She blanched. “How-“

“Thin walls.”

She was starting to look shifty again. “Look… Yes, I used a social lubricant to-“

“You  _ roofied _ me!”

“What? A roofie? I’d never! We had a great time together,” she insisted. “You were happy!”

“Oh, yeah,” he sneered, yanking at his restrained wrist again. “I’m thrilled.”

She stood, resolute. “I have to go.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, wracking his brain. “You know your pal Guy is the one icing all those people, right?”

She gasped. “No, he’s not!”

“Oh, so he’s not a witch?”

“No! He’s just a Wiccan. Wiccans are good, like Glinda of Oz.”

Sam sighed. “Becky,” he said gently. “You’re not this stupid.”

“Whatever is killing people… It’s something else,” she insisted.

Sam scoffed. “It’s never something else. When are there ever two crazy things in town at the same time? Guy’s the creep, and you’re on his list.”

She shook her head. “He’s my friend.”

“No, he’s your dealer. Look, I don’t know how much he’s charging you for that Spanish Fly-“

“Nothing! He gives it to me,” she insisted triumphantly. “And he said it wouldn’t even work unless you already loved me, deep down. It just activates it.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “So… You think I love you?”

“Deep,  _ deep _ down?”

“Then untie me.”

She actually seemed to think about it for a moment, and Sam felt a surge of hope, only to have it dashed when she grabbed a handkerchief off of the nightstand next to the bed and shove it forcefully into his mouth.

“Listen, you’re still working through your emotions,” she said earnestly. “You’re still under that whole… ‘Soulmate’ thing that Lucifer put you under. You just need some time.” She sounded perfectly all right with herself as she walked out of the room.

Sam’s muffled cries did nothing but get him an, “I love you, too!”

* * *

Chrys, as it turned out, was not willing to forgive. This didn’t really surprise Sam in the least.

As Becky dropped the match that trapped Guy in a circle of fire, Sam found himself willing to give her a little bit of leeway. Sure, she was crazy, but she was here helping them now, wasn’t she?

Garth was holding up a bottle cheerfully. “Blueberry vodka. The answer to all of life’s problems.”

Garth weirded Sam out a little.

Becky looked up, beaming. “You see that, Sam? I did it just like we said! I am-“

“You are shutting up now, Becky,” Chrys interrupted sharply, moving to stand in front of Sam.

“I’ll… Just be over here.”

Guy was looking over at Dean. “Dean Winchester. This is really thrilling. Hey, can I have your autograph?”

Dean pulled his knife out slowly. “Sure, yeah. I’ll carve it into your spleen. How are you running this little scam?”

Gus put a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Why, whatever do you mean, Dean?”

“Snuffing out ten-year deals before they’re done,” Chrys answered coldly.

“Well, I would never. No, no, rules of the road. Can’t lay a hand on any of my clients.”

“Right,” Dean agreed. “So how you cheating it?”

“I’m not a cheater.” The demon was smirking. “I’m an innovator. It’s called a  _ loophole, _ you fucking morons. Yes, when a person bargains away his soul, he gets a decade… Technically. But accidents happen.”

“You’re arranging accidents and collecting early,” Chrys concluded.

“Oh, please.” Guy waved his hands. “White gloves. I don’t get my hands dirty. That’s why it’s important to have a capable... Intern.”

Another demon appeared behind Guy with his arm raised. Sam felt himself shoved backward, and saw the rest of the hunters go, too. Becky was nowhere in sight. He felt a bright, shattering pain explode in his temple, and the world went dark.

* * *

When Sam came to, it was to Chrys and Garth having been tossed across the room, the latter unconscious and the former starting to stand again. Dean was hanging in the air, throat in Guy’s hand, struggling. 

And the other demon, Guy’s “intern,” was coming right for Sam.

Even if she was a goddamn nutbag, Sam’s first thought was to save the only civilian around. “Becky! Run!” 

The “intern” put his hand in the air and twisted, and Sam felt his airway close off completely. He struggled, and he heard Chrys shouting for him, but his vision was starting to dance when a knife burst through the center of the demon’s chest. The pressure on his throat relaxed immediately and he gasped for air. The demon dropped to the ground to reveal Becky, her eyes wide.

“Woah,” she breathed.

Sam got to his feet and yanked the knife from the demon’s torso. He tossed it to Dean, who caught it midair and held it to Guy’s throat. As the demon reluctantly put Dean back on his feet, Sam went to check on Chrys and Garth.

“Hey, you okay, beautiful?” he asked, helping Chrys to her feet.

She groaned and leaned into him for a moment. “I’ve been better,” she muttered. She turned to Garth. “What’s the word, Garth?”

“I’m cool,” he said, smiling as he stumbled up to standing. “I’m cool.”

“Hello, boys.”

Crowley’s words made Sam’s blood run cold, and he spun on his heel to stare at the demon. Chrys came to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him, and Garth was on her other side. Dean shifted so that Guy was in front of him, acting as a shield.

Crowley looked over at Sam. “Mazel tov, Moose. Chrys is a lucky lady.” At Chrys’ snort, Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Not you then, pet?”

Becky gasped. “You’re Crowley!”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. “And you’re… Well, I’m sure you have a wonderful personality, dear.”

He stepped forward, and Dean yanked Guy’s head back further, his knife at the demon’s throat. “Ah, ah, another step and I’ll Colombian necktie your little friend here.”

Crowley actually did look a bit upset. “Please don’t let him get off that easy.”

Guy twisted in Dean’s hold. “Sir, I don’t think that you-“

“I know exactly what you’ve been doing,” Crowley interrupted nastily. He tilted his head to indicate the other demon. “A little birdie named Jackson sold you out, emailed all the juicy deets to my suggestion box.” He tilted his head at the demon’s body. “Shame. That’s my whistleblower, I assume? He had a future.” He looked back at Guy. “Unfortunately, you don’t.”

“I was just-“

“There’s only  _ one _ rule. We make a deal, we keep it.”

“Well, technically, I didn’t-“

“There is a reason we don’t call our chits in early,” Crowley snapped, “Customer confidence. This isn’t Wall Street, this is  _ hell! _ We have a little something called integrity. This gets out, who’ll deal with us? Nobody! Then where are we?”

Guy was silent for a moment, then admitted in a small voice, “I don’t know.”

“That’s right. You don’t. Because you’re a stupid, short-sighted little prat. Now, hand the jackass over. I’ll cancel every deal he’s made.”   


“What are you gonna do with him?” Chrys asked.

Crowley shrugged. “Make an example of him. Fair trade, right? We all go our separate ways. No harm done.”   


Sam frowned. “What, out of the goodness of your heart?”

“He’s keeping the demons under wraps,” Chrys said suddenly. “We haven’t seen a demon in months.” She hit Crowley with an intense look. “You’re keeping the way clear for us to get to the Leviathans. Why?”   


He scoffed. “Have you met that dick yet? Smuggest tub of goo since Mussolini. I hate the bastards. Squash ‘em all. I’ll stay clear.”   


“Rip up the contracts first,” Dean insisted.   


Crowley snapped his fingers. “Done and done. Your turn.”

* * *

 

Chrys watched as Becky and Sam signed the annulment for their “wedding” with barely contained rage. She listened as Sam gave Becky a little pep talk, and then watched as the Winchesters walked out.

Before she followed, she turned, grabbed the collar of Becky’s shirt in her fist and hauled the smaller woman up next to her.   


“Sam forgave me!” she squeaked. “Sam forgave me!”   


“Yeah, well, here’s the thing about Sam,” Chrys said, her voice low and angry. “Sam’s a good person.” She smiled. “I’m not. And you aren’t either, Becky. You might get by on this, ‘I’m lonely, and I was unpopular in high school’ schtick with the guys, but I can see right through you.” Chrys shook the girl. “You’re not sad, you’re insane. You took a man against his will, and no matter what happened, that makes you one sick puppy.”   


Becky’s eyes were wide and frightened, and Chrys felt a mean sort of pleasure in it. “I didn’t-“   


“So let me be clear,” Chrys said loudly. “If you come near any of us again, and I mean  _ any _ of us, Garth included, Becky? Becky,  _ I will fucking kill you. _ This isn’t a joke, or cute, or hyperbole. If you come near us again, as friend or foe, I will kill you.” Chrys raised her eyebrows. “Capische?”   


Becky nodded weakly. “Capische.”   


“Good.”

* * *

 

When they got back to Bobby’s that night, Chrys was pulling Sam to their bedroom, which was normally a good thing. The glint in her eye, however, was more dangerous than normal, and it made Sam nervous as hell.   


“Uh, Chrys?”   


“Hmm?” She was walking backward, pulling him along with a hand fisted in his flannel.   


“You know that I, uh, none of that was me, right?”   


“Mhmm,” she agreed, still smirking.   


“And that… Whatever version of me, that wasn’t real? That I want you? Only you?”   


She smiled wide now, and he felt his heart skip several beats. “Oh, Sammy,” she purred. “Keep kissing ass, baby. It’s not gonna help, but it’s fun to watch.”   


He swallowed hard. “Not gonna help?”   


She shook her head. “Oh, no, Sammy. I am going to spend the rest of this night reminding you, and I do mean every version of you,  _ exactly _ who you belong to.”   


Sam didn’t fight very hard when she yanked him into the bedroom and closed the door behind them.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Feedback gets my motor running.  
> \- Come see me on [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kbeautimous)  
> \- Guys, I love Chrys.


	60. You Don't Shoot Bambi, Jackass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Vague mentions of drug use and methods thereof.

**** Chrys hovered over Dean’s shoulder, watching closely as he worked. “Did you strip enough wire?”   


He turned to glare at her over his shoulder.  _ “Yes, _ I stripped enough wire.”   


She held her hands up in surrender. “All right, all right, Mr. Handyman. Calm down.”   


He hmphed at her at the same time that the wires connected and the lights came on. “See?” he sneered. “I told you.”   


“Yeah, yeah, you’re the best,” she said with a smile as the abandoned house they were squatting in lit up.   


In the weeks since Vegas (and the Events That Shall Not Be Named) life had been rough. Because they knew the leviathans were tracking their credit card usage, they were lying lower than usual. That meant a lot of sleeping in cars (“Sleep in Bobby’s truck, you two, no defiling Baby.” “Please, like we haven’t already defiled Baby.” “Goddammit!”), motels cheap enough to not have any security cameras, and breaking into abandoned homes like the one they were in just then.   


It kinda sucked, but it sucked less than getting eaten by a leviathan, so Chrys was trying to be grateful.   


Bobby was clearly not feeling the same as he walked in, eyebrow cocked. “Well, isn’t this cozy?”   


Sam shrugged. “Yeah, well, Motel Six just ain’t leaving the light on anymore.”   


The older man heaved a sigh, but shrugged. “Well, I’m taking a page out of Frank Devereaux’s Bible on this one. Paranoia’s just plain common sense.”   


“It’s not paranoia if everyone’s really out to get you,” Chrys said cheerfully.   


_ “Weeks,” _ Dean hissed. “We’ve been living with cold showers, cold Hot Pockets, cold fucking everything for  _ weeks. _ I mean, this is the bottom that we're living in. You guys get that, right?”   


Chrys rolled her eyes. “Better than being leviathan food.”   


He made a face at her, but before she could retaliate, the lights switched off with little fanfare.   


To her surprise, Dean hauled off and kicked one of the chairs in the kitchen. “That’s just fucking  _ great,” _ he snarled. “This is  _ stupid. _ Our quality of life is  _ shit. _ We’ve got purgatory’s least wanted everywhere, and we’re on our third ‘the world’s screwed’ issue in, what, three years? We’ve steered the bus away from the cliff twice already!”   


Chrys met Sam’s eyes, shocked. “Well,” he said, voice low and wary, “someone’s gotta do it.”

Dean was staring out one of the windows, refusing to make eye contact with any of them. “What if the bus wants to go over the cliff?”

Chrys felt goosebumps prickle up and down her spine. “You think the world wants to end?”

“I think that if we didn’t take its belt and all its pens away each year that, yeah, the whole enchilada woulda offed itself already.”

“Stop trying to wrestle with the big picture, son,” Bobby said firmly, and Chrys felt a rush of gratitude that he was with them. “You’re gonna hurt your head.”

Dean grumbled, grabbed a beer from the cooler, and flung himself down onto the couch, scowling.

Chrys was worried. She wanted to drag Dean out of there, take him to a bar, and force him to talk to her. She didn’t want to have a conversation about feelings any more than he did, but she’d also seen firsthand the result of either Winchester stowing their feelings. It was never pretty.   


She opened her mouth to suggest just that, but was cut off by Bobby.   


“So, what’s the guff?”   


After a beat, Sam turned back to the research he’d gotten printed out at the last library they’d had the opportunity to stop at. “Well, uh, there’ve been a rash of sightings all over the southern pine barrens. A ‘strange, fast-moving, human-like creature.’” He smirked. “Locals even have a name for it.”   


Chrys read over his shoulder, and he held it up so she could see the title of the article.   


_ JERSEY DEVIL REPORTED! _

* * *

“You’d think that after all this time, you’d be used to the Fed suit,” Bobby said, amusement heavily coloring his words.

“Can it, old man,” Chrys snapped without heat in her voice, fidgeting in her stupid Fed suit pants.    


They came close to Dean and Sam before he had a chance to respond out loud, but she saw him roll his eyes.   


Dean looked hopeful. “So?”   


Bobby shrugged. “Well, I took a look at the cadaver… What’s left of it. Not a happy camper. Don’t have any stats on a ‘Jersey Devil,’ but the bite radius on the vic’s wounds, it’s too small for a leviathan. And he’s still got a ventricle and some change, so I doubt we’re talking werewolf. And a wendigo don’t leave scraps.”   


Sam had come to stand next to her as Bobby talked. He had a knowing twinkle in his gaze that had her scowling up at him already.   


“Going commando again, beautiful?” he murmured.   


“Shut it, Winchester.”   


He was chuckling at her, so she focused on Dean instead, although she didn’t fight it when Sam put his arm around her.   


Dean was looking around the Biggerson’s restaurant they were in. “Lunch?” he asked, not taking his eyes off of the menu.   


Chrys nodded emphatically. “Starving.”   


Dean grinned, then turned to hail a passing waiter.    


“Hey! Uh,” he read the nametag on the kid’s chest, “Brandon. Can we grab a booth?”   


Brandon glared fiercely. “Hey, uh,  _ douchewad. _ A hostess will seat you. Do I look like a fucking hostess?”   


Taken aback, Dean spluttered, “Do you  _ want _ to look like a hostess?”   


As Brandon stalked away, Sam leaned forward. “That didn’t really make any sense, what you… Y’know, said.”   


Chrys was staring in awe. “What the hell was that?”   


“Sure hope we don’t get Brandon’s section,” Bobby said darkly.   


* * *

“Sidewinder soup and salad combo goes to Big Bird, patty melt combo goes to Bitch Barbie, TDK slammer to Ken Doll, and a little heart-smart for creepy uncle.”    


Dean was staring at their waiter in shock. “What’s your problem?”   


_ “You’re _ my problem,” Brandon snarled before stalking away.   


Bobby blinked. “Brandon’s got his flare all up in a bunch.”   


Chrys snorted. “There goes his eighteen percent.”   


Dean shrugged. “Whatever. Anyway, chief ranger? I don’t think he believes in the Jersey Devil.”

Sam snapped his fingers. “Oh, oh, and by the way, did he seem a little, uh… Stoned to you?”   


“Ranger Rick? Yeah. Definitely growing his own on the back forty and smoking the profits.”   


Sam nodded. “I mean, he did seem to think that there was something-“   


“Oh, that is a good sandwich,” Dean moaned happily. It was a decidedly carnal sound.   


“What the hell is it?” Chrys asked.   


Dean turned the card advertising the special placed on the table toward them. Chrys wrinkled her nose. “What the fuck?”

“New Pepperjack Turducken Slammer,” Dean said cheerfully, deepening his voice to sound like an announcer. “Limited time only.”   


Bobby shook his head. “Bunch of birds shoved up inside each other. Shouldn’t play god like that.”   


“Hey, don’t look at me sideways from that, that Chinese chicken geezer salad there, okay?” Dean protested to Sam, who was also making face. Chrys snickered, and Dean continued. “This is awesome. Like the perfect storm of your top three edible birds.”   


Sam rolled his eyes and apparently decided to ignore his brother. “All right, anyway, uh… The ranger did seem to think there was something out in Wharton forest.”   


While they talked shop, and even through watching Brandon the Best Waiter Ever throw a fit at another table, Chrys kept a close eye on Dean. She was no stranger to depression or suicidal thoughts, and it was starting to feel like Dean was veering in that direction. With everything else heaped on top of them, it was easy to see how he could get discouraged, but she’d be damned if she let his brain win where so many other creatures had failed to kill him.   


_ Yeah, over my dead body, _ she thought grimly.   


* * *

Sam was trying to stay focused on the mission, but Chrys had changed back into a pair of tight jeans, so it was hard.   


They stalked through the woods single-file, trying to find the missing ranger. Bobby was leading them, because as good as Sam and Dean were at hunting the supernatural, they were kind of garbage when it came to regular hunting.   


Bobby stopped at a bush to examine a tuft of hair. Dean was staring up at the sky, Chrys was paying close attention to Bobby, and Sam was paying even closer attention to Chrys.   


The older hunter showed them what he was looking at. “Couple of bucks. Head-butting over turf, probably.” He looked up at Chrys. “Pretty sure the other fella won.”   


“I keep forgetting that before you were a hunter, you were actually a… Y’know, hunter,” Sam said sheepishly.   


Bobby shrugged. “Yeah, well, we shot our dinner when I was a kid.”   


Dean smiled. “You used to take us hunting, remember? Dad had a case, he’d just dump us on you. Shit, you must have taught us most of the outdoor tracking we know."   


“Yeah, what I could get to stick,” Bobby scoffed. “I never could get you little grubs to pull a trigger on a single deer.”   


Sam watched as Chrys lit up. “Aw, did you guys have trouble killing something all squishy and soft?”   


“Shut it, Summers,” Dean said cheerfully. “You’re talking about Bambi, woman.” Sam laughed.   


Bobby rolled his eyes. “You don’t shoot Bambi, jackass. You shoot Bambi’s mother.”   


Sam winced. “That’s even worse.”   


A drop of blood hitting her shoulder stopped whatever response any of them may have had. Frowning, Sam looked up to see a bloodied arm hanging from a tree.

“Huh,” Dean said thoughtfully. “Looks like we found Phil.”

* * *

Chrys huddled next to Sam for the warmth he seemed to radiate at all times as they watched Ranger Rick pull up in his Jeep and jump out. He was still a little wobbly on his feet and she frowned.  _ He must have gotten another hit between the restaurant and now. There’s no way he’d still be this high. _

_ … I know too much about this shit. _

“Special agents,” the Ranger said. “Listen, I got your call, but I’m not sure I got what you were saying.” When Dean pointed up to the arm still hanging in the tree, Rick’s eyebrows went up. “Hey, I think we found Phil.”

Dean grinned. “That’s what I said!”

“Uh…” The ranger rubbed his chin hard. “I should probably call this in.”

Sam was frowning, too. “Yeah, yeah. Solid move, Rick.”

The Ranger nodded and moved back to his Jeep. He pulled the walkie-talkie connected to the vehicle out the window and hit the button.

A rustle from behind the Ranger’s car made Chrys frown. “Um…”

“This is Ranger Evans up at Archer’s Point. Come in. Uh, repeat.” Rick brightened. “This is  _ Chief _ Ranger Evans.”

There was a screeching noise, then a response. “Chief Ranger, go ahead.”

The rustling continued, got louder. Chrys grabbed Sam’s hand. “Hey-”

“I have a situation out at Archer’s Point,” Rick was saying into the radio.

“Sam!” Chrys hissed, pulling him forward.

“We got company,” Bobby Bobby said grimly.

Rick smiled dopily. “Yeah? Who’s that?”

Chrys had already started to step forward when something grabbed the Ranger and yanked him backwards, into the forest.

_ “Rick!” _

* * *

Chrys felt too tightly wound as they placed the dead creature on the table in the abandoned house they were staying at. She’d argued strongly for finding somewhere else (literally  _ anywhere _ else) to do the examination, but had been soundly overruled.

_ Dicks. _

Bobby was looking warily at the thing. It…  _ Sort _ of looked like a person. A person who’d somehow had all of the fat sucked off of him, so he was just bone and muscle beneath his skin. His eyes were a cloudy, greyish green. He had clothes on, so he had, presumably, been a person at some point, but that point was long gone now.

Chrys was exceedingly glad it was dead.

“Built like a supermodel,” Bobby said, “but the thing was strong, that’s for damn sure. Carried a full grown man up a tree in nothing flat.”

“But it only took one bullet to bring it down,” Sam mused, running a hand through his hair.

“And not even a silver bullet!” Dean chirped. “Just a bullet bullet.”

Dean was starting to grate on Chrys’ nerves.

As she had the thought, the creature bolted upright, snarling and reaching its hands toward her. Before she could really even process it, Chrys whipped out her gun and started firing into its chest. The other three did the same until it fell back down onto the table.

“First one must have just stunned it.” Bobby sounded shaken up.

“Well, all righty then,” Dean said, clapping his hands together. The loud sound made Chrys’ trigger finger twitchy. “Let’s check its hulk pants for some ID.” He fished the wallet out of the thing’s pocket, his face set in disgust. “Oh, that is just gonna  _ ruin _ the leather.”

Chrys snatched it out of his hands. “Give me that, you nimwit.”

Bobby was surveying the eldest Winchester. “You feeling okay?”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah. I feel great.”

Chrys flipped the wallet open to the driver’s license slot, still giving Dean the stink eye before she looked down to read. “Gerald Bowder. Lived in town. Five foot nine. Brown hair, blue eyes, and…” She looked back up at the body on the table. “Two hundred thirty-five pounds.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose. “Woah.”

“Well, apparently, he’s lost a little pudge,” Bobby mused.”

Dean chuckled. “Maybe it’s a lap-band side effect.”

Chrys watched with suspicion curling in her heart as Dean laughed. When he’d calmed himself down, Sam found a stick in the living room and poked it into one of the bullet wounds of the creature. It began to ooze thick gray goo.

“The hell?” Bobby said, wincing.

“Better have a look under Gerald’s hood,” Sam said darkly.

* * *

Chrys could not believe she was so desperately in love with a man who had so casually ripped open Gerald’s chest cavity so they could see what made him tick. Oh, sure, the raw strength he’d exhibited when separating his ribcage made her heart go pitter-patter, but… Well,  _ gross. _

“God! Its organs are swimming in the stuff.” Bobby sounded disgusted. Chrys felt that he was much too close to the  _ creature they weren’t sure was dead. _

They’d found forceps somewhere, which made Chrys survey them both with dark suspicion. Sam  _ said _ he’d just found them when he’d seen the alarm in her eyes, but she was wise to his ways.  _ The love of my life, _ she thought ruefully,  _ carries forceps around in his duffel. _

Dean came back into the room, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “You guys getting hungry? I’m getting hungry.”

Chrys sent him a death glare.  _ And all of the men in my life are ghouls. _

Sam and Bobby were studiously ignoring Dean. “What’s that?” Sam asked, pointing.

“His stomach,” Bobby said, his mustache twitching in what Chrys could only hope was disgust. “For a guy on a diet, Gerry here packed it in pretty good.”

Sam pointed again. “That’s human right there.”

Bobby sighed. “That’s fresh Rick. Let’s see…” He used his forceps to move some of the innards around, and Chrys wondered why she was still in the room as her gag reflex made itself known.

Bobby continued, ignorant of her distress. “Plus… A pine cone? Pack of gum in the wrapper.”

“This over here is older. Maybe like a…” Sam winced. “Mabe Ranger Phil? Or the camper?”

Then Bobby was pointing. “What’s that?”

Sam followed his lead. “Looks like a…” He pulled something out in the forceps, and Chrys had to cover her mouth with her hand. “Yeah, that’s a…. That’s a cat’s head.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Chrys groaned.

Bobby’s eyebrows were at his hairline. “A glamper or two is one thing, but you gotta be damn hungry to eat a cat’s head.” When Sam agreed, Bobby dug into the creature with his own forceps (Chrys was going to get new friends) and pulled out a big black hunk of… Grossness.

“I think that’s his adrenal glands.”

Sam blinked. “Okay… And?”

“Meant to be the size of hotel bar soap... “ Bobby waved it a little. “And bright orange.”

“All right,” Sam said, nodding, “that might explain the strength. Um, but whatever this thing is, it’s not the Jersey Devil, but it sure as hell ain’t Gerald Browder anymore.”

“Okay, guys,” Dean complained, “seriously. “It’s time for dinner!”

* * *

They were back at Biggerson’s, much to Chrys’ displeasure (although it could have been said that the only thing that would have given her pleasure at this point would have been leaving this godforsaken town in the dust, and that would have been fair).

Her stomach hadn’t really recovered from breaking Gerald open like a cheap walnut, so she just glared at Dean, who was eating like he was fine. Around them, Sam and Bobby discussed the case.

“Missing person number three,” Sam said. “Disappeared eight days ago.”

“Well, that explains all the people who got eaten in the last eight days.”

Dean gave an indecent moan as he took a particularly large bite.

_ “Dean,” _ Chrys hissed. She straightened a little. “What do  _ you _ think happened to him?”

He shrugged. “I’m not that worried about it.”

Bobby frowned. “Excuse me?”

“That’s funny, right? I could give two shakes of a rat’s ass. Is that right? Do rats shake their ass? Or is it something else?” He considered for a moment, then shrugged. “Eh.”

Several things came together very quickly in Chrys’ mind. She reached across the table and snatched Dean’s disgusting sandwich out of his hands. Ignoring his indignant, “Hey!” she signalled their server.

“We’re gonna need a box for this.”

* * *

“This is stupid,” Dean groused. “My sandwich didn’t do anything. I don’t know what you think you’re gonna find.”

Sam unwrapped the sandwich like he was opening a bomb, which was the first thing he’d done that Chrys had approved of heartily in several hours.

“There’s something wrong with you, Dean,” Bobby said, placating.

“Are you  _ kidding? _ I’m  _ fine! _ I actually feel great. The best I’ve felt in a couple months.” He shrugged. “Cass? Black goo? I don’t even care anymore. And you know what’s even better? I don’t  _ care _ that I don’t care. I just want my damn slammer back.”

“Dude,” Sam protested, “you’re completely stoned, just like Ranger Rick was.”

Chrys nodded. “Which explains how his high lasted so long. He was essentially shooting up every time he sat down to eat.”

“Just like the dinner rush back at Biggerson’s,” Bobby concluded. “And everybody’s loving the Turducken.”

As he spoke, grey goo started to bubble out of the sandwich with a nauseating  _ splat _ sound. All four of them stared at it in horror for a moment.

Dean swallowed hard. “I think you pissed off my sandwich.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Feedback gets my motor running.  
> \- Come see me on [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kbeautimous)  
> \- This chapter was an unexpected delight.


	61. Bobby!

“I think you pissed off my sandwich.”

More of the grey goo started to dribble from the middle of what Chrys had to assume was supposed to be chicken.

Dean paled. “That’s… That’s in me?”

“Uh…” Sam winced. “Only half of it.”

Bobby frowned. “Does that snot look familiar?”

“Okay,” Sam said firmly, clearly trying to move all of them out of the “that’s disgusting and Dean ate some of it” mindset. “So whatever turned Gerry Browder into a pumpkin head and is currently turning Dean into an idiot-”

“I’m right here,” Dean protested.  _ “Right _ here.”

“-is in the Turducken Slammer at Biggerson’s,” Chrys finished, rolling her eyes at both of them.

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

“It’s in the meat.” Bobby poked at the goo with his forceps.

Dean sighed. “If I wasn’t so chilled out right now, I would puke.”

* * *

Chrys was sitting next to Bobby in an old junker, staring at the Biggerson’s receiving entrance. It was still dark, and it had been a long day, so she was fighting off sleep. She drained the rest of the shitty coffee she’d gotten from the very Biggerson’s they were casing and wished it was helping.

“So,” Sam said, apropos of nothing, “do we think he’s okay?”

Chrys blinked. “Who?”

Sam glanced back at his brother, who was sleeping heavily in the backseat. “Dean.”

Bobby nodded. “Yeah, he’s all right.”

“Good. So you guys don’t… Worry about him?”

Chrys frowned. “What do you mean? Before the Turducken?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I kinda mean more like… Uh, more like ever since my head broke, and we lost Cass. I mean, you ever feel like he’s… He’s going through the same motions, but he’s not the same Dean? You know?”

Chrys rolled her eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Sam, of course he’s not  _ actually _ okay. His brother is hallucinating Satan, his best friend is dead, and he’s stuck with my bitchy ass. The only one of us who’s any good is Bobby, and one out of five is  _ terrible _ odds.” She turned to look at the restaurant again. “We’re all just limping along. Until we deal with this latest shitstorm, we’re just gonna have to live like that.”

Bobby was nodding. “All you do is worry about him, boy, and all he does is worry about you. Who’s left to live their own life here? Aren’t you full up just playing Snuffleupagus with the devil, anyway?”

“I don’t know Bobby. Seeing Lucifer’s fine with me.”

Chrys whipped around to glare at her soulmate.  _ “Excuse me?” _ she snarled.

Sam jerked back in a gratifying way, his hands up in surrender, but his eyes were hard. “Look, I’m not saying it’s fun. But, to be honest with you, I… I kinda see it as the best-case scenario. At least all my crazy’s under one umbrella, you know? I kinda know what I’m dealing with. A lot of people got it worse.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Chrys snapped.

“You always were one deep little son of a bitch.”

Before she could growl at both of them again, Chrys saw a delivery truck driving around the building. “Wait, wait, both of you, shut up. Look”

All three of them shifted forward to watch the truck back into the receiving entrance. The driver got out, opened the back, and started to wheel cartons into the restaurant. They continued to watch in silence until he got back into the cab and drove away. A street light hit the side of the truck, highlighting the emblem proclaiming the truck part of  _ MIDWEST MEAT AND POULTRY WHOLESALE DISTRIBUTION. _

Chrys pointed. “Let’s follow that guy, then.”

* * *

Sam was using binoculars to track the Midwest Meat truck as it pulled up to the warehouse they’d followed it to. Chrys was a long line of heat against his side, reassuring and real. On his other side, Lucifer was muttering to himself, probably limericks.

Sam was getting  _ really _ good at multitasking.

“That’s weird, right?” he asked, not taking his eyes off of the truck. “I mean, national franchise like Biggerson’s getting meat from a place that looks like it wholesales Hong Kong knockoffs.”

Chrys snorted, and Sam finally put down the binoculars to look over at her.

Three years after they’d first met, when she’d introduced herself by introducing her fist to his jaw, Chrys was still the most beautiful person Sam had ever laid eyes on. Her hair was shorter now, but her eyes no less sparkling and fierce. Her face was classically pretty, and her long legs, squeezed next to his in the bench seat the four of them had shuffled onto to watch the warehouse, were encased in denim and still enough to make his thoughts derail for a moment.

God, he loved her.

He opened his mouth to say so, but Chrys was already speaking.

“Yeah, it’s a little weird.”

Dean grunted. “Well, what, then? We wait till they close up shop? Go take a look around?”

Bobby was frowning. “Hang on, lookit.”

A car had pulled up to the warehouse next to the delivery truck they’d followed. The door opened, and Sam flinched in shock as Edgar, the leviathan Chrys had sworn she’d crushed with a car, stepped out onto the pavement.

“Real?” he whispered, automatically reaching for her.

“Unfortunately, yes,” she replied, her voice low and furious. “Very real.” She wove their fingers together and gripped his hand hard.

They all watched tensely as Edgar rounded the car and pulled another person from the backseat. It was difficult to see in the dark, and their head was covered by a hood besides, but it looked like the person was wearing a Biggerson’s uniform.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean snarled.

“What the fuck is going on?”

* * *

“There’s nothing happening back here,” Chrys was whispering into the phone. Dean was listening carefully for any sounds of trouble on the other end of the line, in case she or Sam needed help.

Bobby was nodding. “Yeah, okay. Well, they’re pretty dug in, looks like. You kids finish circling and head on back.”

“Ten-four, old man,” Chrys said smartly before the line went dead.

“Goddamn smartass kids,” Bobby grumbled, but Dean could see the hint of a smile hiding behind his mustache as he hung up the phone.

Dean sat back into the passenger seat, scrubbing a hand down his face to keep himself focused. He wouldn’t really relax until Sam and Chrys were back in the car, but he could pretend, at least.

He was deep enough into his own thoughts of his brother and honorary sister-in-law that when Bobby spoke it surprised the shit out of him.

“How’s your head?”

Dean blinked. “Well, I think the slammer’s pretty much worn off. In between that and the twenty cups of coffee, I’m real tense. And alarmed. Ready to go.”

“I wasn’t talking about that.”

_ Oh, I’m not nearly drunk enough for a conversation like this. _ ”Oh, Bobby, don’t. Don’t go all sigmund Freud on me right now, okay? I just got drugged by a  _ sandwich.” _

Bobby, however, was undeterred. “I want to talk about your new party line.”

“Party? What are you talking about? I don’t even vote.”

“‘The world’s a suicide case. We save it, it just steals more pills?’”

Dean sighed. “Bobby, I’m here, okay? I’m on the case. What’s the problem?”

“I’ve seen a lot of hunters live and die. You’re starting to talk like one of the dead ones, Dean.”

“No,” Dean spat, suddenly angry. “I'm talking the way a person talks when they've had it, when they can't figure out why they used to think all this mattered.

“Oh, you poor, sorry… You’re not a person.”

Dean recoiled a little, stung. “Thanks.”

“Come on, now. You tried to hang it up and be a person with Lisa and Ben. And now here you are with a mean old coot and a van full of guns. That ain't person behavior, son. You're a hunter, meaning you're whatever the job you're doing today. You get a case of the Anne Sextons, something's gonna come up behind you and rip your fool head off. Now, you find your reasons to get back in the game. I don't care if it's love or spite or a ten-dollar bet. I've been to enough funerals.” Bobby met his eyes again, his expression deadly serious, and pointed a finger. “I mean it. You die before me, and I'll kill you.”

Dean struggled for a moment. It was… Easy, sometimes, to forget that the people around him felt the same way that he did. It was easier, sometimes, with Chrys around, because even if she didn’t want to, either, she forced them to confront the way they felt and talk about how it was affecting them, but it still sometimes took him by surprise. Just because he was willing to die for his family didn’t mean they wouldn’t turn around and do the exact same thing.

His voice was a little raw and shaky when he spoke next. “We need to scrape some money together, get you a condo or something.”

Before either one of them could speak again, Chrys was opening the door and pulling her way up into the backset. “Hey,” she said urgently as Sam came in behind her, “Something’s up.”

Attention swung back to the warehouse, where two black vehicles were pulling up as Edgar and another man  _ (probably a leviathan, _ Dean thought sourly) stepped out to greet them. Out of one of the sleek cars stepped a tall man dressed in a crisp suit.

“Well, I’ll be a squirrel in a skirt,” Bobby muttered. “It’s Dick fucking Roman.”

Dean blinked. “What? Who the hell is Dick Roman?”

* * *

_ “Another great question,” _ Dick Roman said in a booming, confident voice on Sam’s laptop screen.  _ “No, I am not running for political office at this time. But I  _ do _ have a number-one bestseller.” _

Dean was scowling. “What the hell  _ is _ that?”

“That’s one of the top fifty most powerful men in America, Dean,” Sam answered dryly.

Chrys was reading an article on her phone. “Says here top thirty-five as of last month.”

“Now it’s all making sense,” Dean said darkly. “Remember when Crowley kept going on about hating Dick? I thought he was just being general.” He scoffed.

“Well,” Bobby said from behind them, where he was sitting in the backseat, “if the leviathan got to him, then that means they’re playing on a much bigger board than we were thinking.”

“So what, then?” Sam asked. “I mean, we can’t exactly outgun them.”

“No, but we got the drop on them,” Bobby said. “Means we got a chance to figure out what these guys are really doing here.”

Chrys turned to ask what Bobby was talking about, only to have the words catch in her throat and her eyebrows shoot to her hairline when she took in the advanced surveillance equipment Bobby was assembling in the backseat.

“Where did you get all this?” she demanded.

“On loan from Frank’s Big Brother collection,” Bobby said. “It’ll pick up vocal vibrations from window glass at half a mile. It’s time to find out what these ugly bastards are up to.”

* * *

_ They took Bobby. They  _ took _ Bobby. _

The words were an endless litany in Chrys’ head as Dean cursed and clenched the broken tech they’d found on the roof where Bobby had been watching.

“They got him,” Dean snarled.

“Guys,” Sam said, his voice cautious, always trying to be reasonable. “There are at least four leviathans out there, and we don’t even know for sure how to kill  _ one.” _

An ACME Cleaning van pulled up, and a lightbulb went off in Chrys’ head.

She nodded at Sam’s words. “Well, then, it will be  _ quite _ the shock when we walk in through the front door, won’t it?

* * *

Adrenaline made Chrys’ heart pound as the three of them walked into the warehouse, sporting jumpsuits and power washers filled with cleaning solution. It had been a long time since she’d felt this  _ focused. _ There were always things to fight, of course, but rarely this kind of direct enemy.

She couldn’t punch Dean’s depression and hopelessness in the face and hope it worked. She couldn’t point a gun at Sam’s hallucinations and expect them to flee in fear. She  _ could, _ however, spray the leviathan bastards who had taken Bobby with Borax and watch as their faces melted off.

_ It’s the little things. _

They burned through Edgar, the truck driver, and the two others who were guarding the doors to the warehouse. They moved forward and searched quickly through the aisles, looking for a hint of where the leviathans would have taken Bobby.

They split off from one another, and as Chrys darted down the first aisle she came across, she almost ran smack dab into Dick Roman himself.

She blanched and took a few steps back before remembering herself. He smiled at her, and it was like a shark, wide and predatory.

“Chrysanthemum Summers,” he said, genial and light. “At last, we meet.”

She wanted to think of something snappy, but the bastard still had Bobby somewhere, so this wasn’t the time. Instead, she raised the nozzle of the power washer she was holding and shot Dick in the face.

His skin started to sizzle and burn, and he hissed, but he didn’t actually back down at all. Before she could puzzle out another way to get rid of him, her washer started to sputter and jerk, and the stream of cleaning solution slowly drizzled out until nothing but drips were coming out.

Dick pulled a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his jacket and advanced on her as he wiped his still burning face. Chrys dropped the empty pressure washer and started to back away.

“Chrys,” Dick said, his voice scolding, “that is  _ not _ how we communicate from a place of yes.”

She took another step back and hit the wall. She’d backed herself into a corner, she realized with a creeping, paralyzing sort of fear.

Dick smiled. “That was  _ bracing.” _ His face was already beginning to heal. “Where’d you kids find this stuff?”

She opened her mouth to tell him to go fuck himself, but two shots rang out through the warehouse before she could get the words out. She leaned to look around Dick, who was glaring at the holes in his torso that were oozing black goo. Bobby stood there, pointing what looked like a very,  _ very _ nice gun at the leviathan.

The sight of the older hunter spurred Chrys into action. She bolted by Dick and toward Bobby, who held one hand out to her. Once she got to him, he gripped her hard and pulled her along.

She heard Dick shout, “Hey! That’s mine!” She didn’t turn around, just kept running.

Now that they were almost out and all of them were together, she could admit that the plan had been fucking  _ stupid. _ Given the chance, she probably wouldn’t change anything, but she knew how foolhardy they’d been.

She faintly heard another splash, Dick grunt in pain, then footsteps behind them. Before she could get scared, Dean shouted. “Go! Go!”

Sam caught up with them from the other end, and the four of them rushed out of the warehouse together. Another leviathan tried to step out in front of them, but Chrys felt Sam yank her forward and Bobby push her away at the same time, so she kept up with the Winchesters as they ran to the van.

She dove into the back as Dean and Sam clambered into the front. Dean had the van started and was racing toward the warehouse door before Chrys could get turned around, but she stumbled over to the open sliding door on the van to help Bobby up as soon as he got there.

She had go cling to the passenger seat as Dean swung around, but she saw Bobby running their way. She  _ also _ saw Dick Roman step out of the big loading bay doors, gun raised in his hand.

“Bobby!” she shouted, reaching a hand out. “Come on, come on, come on!” Dick started to pull the trigger.

To her relief, Bobby made it. He gripped her hand and she threw herself backwards. She felt pain explode in her shoulder as Bobby fell forward into the van, both of them jostled by the way Dean hit the gas. The momentum when he swung the van into a turn again had the sliding door slamming shut behind Bobby.

She registered that the Winchesters were talking up front, but she grunted and pushed at Bobby’s weight where he was still half on top of her. “Hey, Singer, move,” she said, but she was smiling in relief. “Getting dizzy here,” she joked, although she  _ was _ kind of woozy, and  _ damn _ her shoulder hurt.  _ Maybe I pulled it yanking him into the van? _

It didn’t really occur to her that something might be wrong until Bobby didn’t move off of her. “Hey,” she snapped, really starting to shove at him, ignoring the spreading fire in her shoulder. “Bobby, snap out if it, get off of me.”

Nothing.

“Bobby?” She finally managed to heave him off of her, and she sat up so she could twist and get a good look at him.

Her first thought (and she would think this very strange later on) was that he didn’t have his hat on. It made him look… Well, she thought of him as older quite frequently, and she knew in her heart he was a bit older, but without his hat he actually  _ looked _ old.

That, and the blood starting to pour from his temple.

“Bobby!  _ Bobby!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I'm so sorry.  
> \- Sorry about the delay. Life got hard.


	62. Saved the Best for Last

“Bobby?  _ Bobby!?” _

“What’s wrong? What?”

_ “Fuck!” _

“Oh, Jesus, that looks bad.”

“Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck!” _

“Is he dead?”

“Come on, Bobby, stay with me.”

“Is he  _ dead?” _

“Just drive, Dean! Fucking hell!”

“Talk to me, Summers!”

“Is he…”

“No. No, he has a pulse. He’s breathing.”

“Keep him upright. Stop the bleeding.”

“Oh, fuck you, Winchester, I know how to treat a gunshot wound!”

“Hello? Hello? I need the nearest trauma center.”

“Bobby, you son of a bitch, don’t you leave me here with these goddamn boys.”

“What’s the address?!”

The van’s tire squealed as it accelerated down the highway.

* * *

Chrys ran next to the Winchesters after the nurses wheeling Bobby away from the hospital entrance and down a long, brightly lit hallway.

“Page the neurosurgeon on call,” shouted a doctor as he joined the fray. “Tell OR to put electives on hold. Move trauma two to bed seven as soon as it’s clean.”

“Gunshot wound to the right frontal area,” a nurse reported. “No exit wound found. Breathing spontaneously. Respiratory rate eighteen and shallow. RST at one-twenty. BP ninety over sixty. GCS five.”

The doctor grunted. “Push eighty grams of Mannitol over thirty. Prep for intubation.”

“Air entry clear to bases.”

“Let’s get a central line in here now!” the doctor shouted as they rounded into a room.

“What’s happening?” Sam asked, pleading. The three of them tried to follow the team into the room. “Please, just tell us-“

One of the nurses stopped and turned, holding her hands out in front of her to stop them. “Look, I’m sorry. You have to stay out of our way.”

“Get them out of here!” the doctor bellowed.

“Please,” Dean said, “that’s our uncle.”

Chrys watched as another nurse started to cut Bobby’s shirt open. “Please, just tell us what they’re doing.”

The nurse softened a little, but was still pushing them back. “Come on, we’ve got to get you out of here. We need to get him stable.”

“When are you gonna get the bullet out?” Dean demanded.

_ “If _ we can get the swelling down,  _ if _ it’s in a place we can get to,  _ if-“ _

_ “If _ he even lives that long,” Chrys whispered, but the words still sounded too loud.

Even as she said it, a monitor started to scream in Bobby’s room. Chrys felt like it was her own heart, her own breath stopping.

The doctor was yelling again. “Push thirty more of Mannitol over ten! CBC and ‘lytes! Bolus him with five hundred saline!”

One of the nurses spoke, her voice shaky around the words. “The vitals were stable two minutes ago.”

“Well, he’s crashing now,” the doctor said grimly.

“Hey,” the pretty nurse in front of them said, zeroing in on Chrys. “Is that your blood?”

Chrys looked down at her shoulder that she’d wrenched pulling Bobby  _ (if I had been faster or better or stronger he’d be fine if I had been-), _ only to find fresh blood pumping from the wound.

“Well,” she said evenly. “Would you look at that?”

* * *

“Well, at least lay down so I can examine you.”

“I’m good where I am.”

The nurse narrowed her eyes in frustration. “Ma’am, I just-“

“Look, I’m not gonna let you do surgery, I’m not gonna lie down, I’m not going to take any pain meds, and I’m not gonna let you sedate me. Just dig the goddamn bullet out of my shoulder and let me get back to the waiting room.”

As it turned out, Chrys had been shot, which she found wildly inconvenient.  _ Fucking Dick and his fucking lousy shot. _ The hospital staff (understandably) wanted to send Chrys to surgery immediately remove the bullet and patch her up.

She flatly refused for a multitude of reasons.

She didn’t take pain medicine on principle. It had been years since she’d used, but it had  _ not _ been years since she’d craved it. Chrys knew firsthand what a slippery slope her addiction could be. Even the well-deserved pain shot of a gunshot victim was too much temptation. She couldn’t do it. She refused sedation for the same reason.

Lying down for any reason, rest or surgery, was also out. She wanted to, she was completely exhausted from her head to her toes, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t an option. She had work to do, and if she went down now, she wouldn’t wake up in time to get everything done.

The nurse was glaring at her, but Chrys kept up her calm façade. She’d faced way too many baddies down to be intimidated by a human, nurse or not.

“It’s going to hurt,” the other woman said finally.

Chrys smiled. “I’ve got quite a pain tolerance.”

* * *

_ Jesus fucking Christ that hurt, _ Chrys thought sourly as she made her way to the Impala.  _ Ah, fucking fuck fuck, that hurt. _

She pulled the key’s she’d lifted out of Dean’s pocket (it was a sign of how distraught he was that she’d been able to lay hands on them at all) and opened the trunk, keeping an eye on her surroundings. Sam was still up in Bobby’s room with Dean. She’d told them she needed some air after having the bullet removed. Sam had been worried, but she’d told him to stay with Dean and Bobby and let to call her if anything changed.

She didn’t want him interrupting her.

She gathered everything she needed quickly. She took one of her older CIA badges, shoved it into the tin box that had previously held bandages she’d snagged from a supply closet, and shut the trunk. The  _ thunk _ was loud in the deserted parking lot.

Or, she’d  _ thought _ it was deserted.

“So this is your big plan?”

Sam’s voice wasn’t angry, and there wasn’t anger in his eyes when Chrys twirled to meet them. He stood behind her, relaxed, hands in his coat pocket. His face was still stiff in his grief and despair, but his hazel eyes held nothing but understanding for her.

_ Ugh. Dick. _

“Gonna sell your soul for Bobby’s?”

Chrys shrugged. “Maybe.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose. “And you don’t think he’s going to be pissed about that?”

“He will, but he’ll be  _ alive.” _

“He might be alive anyway.”

Chrys exhaled sharply. “Sam, let’s be realistic. Bobby didn’t fall down the stairs, he got  _ shot in the head. _ He’s not walking away from this.”

“Stranger things have happened.”

“Not good ones,” she said grimly.

Sam took a step closer. “Chrys, this isn’t the answer.”

“Sure it is.”

“No, it’s not, and we both know it.”

“Sam,” Chrys said, her voice tight. “We need him.”

“And, what? We don’t need you?”

Chrys shrugged, then scowled when he stepped forward again to wrap his arms around her. “Shut up, let me go,” she snapped, but didn’t struggle away.

_ “I _ need you,” he whispered. “You know this isn’t the way. You know you can’t do this.”

“Everyone else did it,” she muttered, giving in and cuddling into him. “Why can’t I?”

“Because you got caught before a demon showed up.”

Chrys sighed and leaned against him. She had, at no point,  _ wanted _ to sell her soul for Bobby, but if there was anyone she’d do it for, he was definitely near the top of the short list. She couldn’t imagine the world without the gruff hunter, and he’d looked so…  _ Small, _ and  _ old _ lying there on the hospital bed, medical personnel frantically trying to stabilize him. She knew the Winchesters had had quite enough of people trying to sell their souls, she just hadn’t seen another way.

She still didn’t.

She kept the box in her pocket when she and Sam walked back in.

* * *

It seemed like hours before the doctor came out of the room, but Dean knew it had probably only been a few minutes.

He was holding onto his temper by a fraying thread of control. He knew on an intellectual level that he was just scared  _ (terrified), _ but it was so much easier to be angry, to be  _ fucking furious. _

How dare Bobby get himself shot?

How dare Dick Roman shoot him?

How dare Cass put them in this situation?

How dare Dean be the one left alive, repeatedly, over and over again, while people more worthy than him lie in a hospital bed fighting for their lives?

Finally, the doctor came out. Dean, Chrys, and Sam sat up in their chairs, each of them so tense they were shaking.

“Okay,” the doctor said with a heavy sigh. “Now all we can do is wait. We’ll see if the swelling goes down.”

“How long?” Dean bit out.

“It’s hard to say in cases like this.”

Dean scrambled. “Well, he’s lasted this long. That’s something, right?”

“Well, yes.” Another sigh from the doctor. “Listen, the bullet didn’t shatter. Only one hemisphere of his brain was injured. These are all positive things. But I don’t want to give you false hope here. He’s far from out of the woods. Most of the time, in cases like this…”

“They die,” Sam said, because Dean couldn’t have brought himself to breathe the words into existence.

“Right now, it comes down to him.”

* * *

Chrys was smoking outside, as close to the doors as the “non-smoking” sign unironically allowed, when she saw a sleek black car park directly in front of the hospital.

Sam’s sad, resigned face. Dean’s disbelieving, scared, angry face. Bobby’s shockingly still face. They combined in her head, all blurring together, until a wave of potent fury crashed over her. The hand holding the cigarette started to tremble, and she gritted her teeth and exhaled smoke through her nose, relishing the slight burn.

There was a time in her life when Chrys would have pulled out the gun that should  _ not _ have been in her waistband out and opened fire, consequences be damned. She liked to think she’d grown up a little, or Sam had more of a calming effect on her than she’d realized  _ (“I should have shot them in their stupid heads. You’re messing with my thought processes, Winchester.” “I dunno, I think I’m growing on you, beautiful.”). _ Either way, she walked sedately to the car and rapped on the window.

When it opened, she took a petty satisfaction in blowing smoke directly into Dick Roman’s smug face.

“Dick,” she said with a sickly sweet smile that hurt her face.

“Chrysanthemum,” he said with a smile. “Lovely to see you again.”

“Come to finish the job?” When the leviathan just kept smiling, Chrys turned her body enough so he could see that people were starting to pull their cell phones out to record them, just as she’d known they would. “You see, deciding to jump a famous person wasn’t the  _ best _ idea. I see why you did it, and you could kill me, the Winchesters, and Bobby right now, get rid of us for good…  _ If _ you wanted to see it online by tomorrow morning.”

“Maybe you should go check on your friend,” Dick said genially. “He can’t be feeling too frisky right about now. I’m a very good shot.”

Chrys leaned back down. “I’m coming for you, Dick. Not just to hurt you, I’m going to kill you. Got me?”

“Come on, Chrysanthemum. I can’t be killed.”

She shrugged. “Then you’re going to wish you could.”

Dick laughed. “That’s some  _ conviction! _ You’d really crush it on the motivational circuit.”

Chrys smiled coldly and put her cigarette butt out on the side of his car. “You’re either laughing because you’re scared, or you’re laughing because you’re stupid.” She tossed the butt into the seat next to the leviathan and shot him a wink. “Either way, I’ll see you soon, Dick.”

She wasn’t shaking anymore as she walked back into the hospital.

* * *

Chrys had Dean’s hand in one of hers and Sam’s in the other, seated between them in chairs set in the hallway just outside of Bobby’s room. They’d been there for what felt like forever.

Dean, surprise surprise, didn’t want to talk about what was happening, not that Chrys wanted to do that, herself. He clung to her hand and stayed silent, his eyes never straying from Bobby’s door.

Sam did want to talk about it, but had accepted the reticence he’d been met with. He held her other hand, and in a heartbreaking moment, had whispered, “Real?” to her, making her confirm that yes, what was happening was horribly, tragically real.

She finally looked up from her bouncing knee when two women sped down the hall and started to enter Bobby’s room.

“Keep the head of the bed up for transport,” one of them was saying. “IV can run off the pump. Just run a TKVO. We’ll have to wait for respiratory.”

Chrys and the Winchesters stood as one. “Wait, wait, wait,” Chrys snapped. “What’s going on?’

“He’s showing signs of responsiveness,” one of the nurses answered. “We’re taking him up for surgery. If you want to see him, I’d squeeze in there quick.”

They hurried in, and Chrys ended up on one side of Bobby’s bed and the Winchesters on the other. They stared at him for a moment, taking in the beloved face, pale now.

“I’m so sorry,” the nurse said softly, “but we need to get moving.”

Chrys didn’t look at her, but took one of Bobby’s cold hands in hers. “Bobby,” she said softly, emotion choking her. “Thank you. For everything. Always.”

“Okay,” the nurse said. “Please, step back.”

Before they could be escorted out, Bobby’s eyes opened and his hand raised.

“Oh, my fuck,” Chrys breathed.

“His eyes! His eyes are open!” Sam said, voice high in panic and elation.

Bobby pulled at the respirator on his face until it was off. He opened his mouth but appeared to have trouble speaking.

“Wait, wait,” Dean said, “A pen. A pen. Here.” He handed Bobby a pen and the chart from the end of the bed.

Bobby took the pen, left the chart, and turned Chrys’ hand over. On her palm, he wrote the numbers four, five, four, eight, and nine, then dropped the pen. His breathing was labored, his chest heaving. His own hands shook with the effort.

He smiled a little at all of them, and Chrys found herself leaning forward at the same time the Winchesters did.

“Idjits,” Bobby breathed with that same smile before his head dropped back and his monitor flatlined.

“Bobby?  _ Bobby!” _

* * *

“You microbrewing in there?!” Dean called indignantly. “Come on, we got a lot of Chuck Norris to get through!”

Robert Singer, hunter, uncle, surrogate father, partner, widower, and friend, chuckled and shook his head as he bent down to get three beers from the refrigerator.

“Nice move,” the reaper said behind him, “waking up like that.”

Bobby shrugged modestly. “Motivation’s a mother.”

“You know why it’s dark out there, don’t you? This house, it’s your last island. Everything else melted from that bullet, gone. This is your last chance to come with me and move on. For your own good, Bobby, let go. They’ll be okay without you.”

Bobby nodded. “Last memory, huh?” At the reaper’s nod, “Glad I saved the best for last.”

As he walked in and distributed the beers, Dean and Sam were arguing while Chrys watched on with a smile.

“Licorice is disgusting,” Sam insisted.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, horrified, “I didn’t quite understand that, Mr. Peanut-Butter-and-Banana-Sandwiches?!”

“I stand by that sandwich! Nobody likes licorice! It’s made of dirt!”

Bobby took a seat and watched them fondly as they both turned to Chrys.

“C,” Dean pleaded. “Come on, see reason.”

“Chrys, baby, you gotta side with me.”

Chrys laughed and sat on the floor in front of Bobby’s chair. He remembered being surprised and pleased that she did so, especially when she leaned comfortably back against his legs and raised her beer to her mouth.

“Nope, I’m sitting this one out with Bobby.”

Bobby smiled and let his eyes slip closed as the reaper’s watch ticked on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I'm so sorry. :(  
> \- Feedback gets my motor running!


	63. Not Right Now

Chrys watched as the fire burned on, consuming wood and cloth and flesh without bothering to discern which was which. Every pop from the flames made her wince and squeeze Sam’s hand a little harder. The darkness around them was eerie in its totality, and the wind was making it seem chillier than it actually was. Either way, she huddled into her jacket, uneasy.

Dean’s face looked like it had been carved from stone. His eyes were just a little glassy  _ (that would be the whiskey, _ she thought grimly), and behind that, they were dull and empty. His stance was tense, closed off.   


They all were.   


Sam stood next to her, stoically still despite the steady stream of tears running down his face and dripping off of his chin. He didn’t try to wipe them away or hide them. He just watched the fire.   


And so Bobby Singer’s funeral pyre raged on, and his family stood witness.

* * *

The drive to Rufus’ cabin from the field they’d laid Bobby to rest in was quiet in the loose, indefinable way unique to shock and grief. Chrys kept opening her mouth to say something,  _ anything, _ but there was nothing. So she kept silent, and so did the Winchesters.   


They drove along, more silent than the ghosts they so often hunted.

* * *

_ She turned to Bobby. “I’ll be out of our hair soon, Bobby. Just let me get my stuff.” _ _   
_

_ He shook his head. “Chrys, you should probably stay and sleep a little. You’re dead on your feet. Not good for the baby.” _ _   
_

_ The mention of the baby had her eyes filling. His eyes widened in horror. “He didn’t-“ _ _   
_

_ She nodded quickly to interrupt him. She couldn’t hear the words. _ _   
_

_ He wrapped an arm around her and led her gently to the house. “Come on, girl. You know you can stay as long as you need.” _

* * *

Chrys jerked awake from the vivid  _ (so vivid oh my God) _ dream, disappointed but not surprised at the burning, violent  _ need _ crashing through her veins.   


She rolled to her back, scrubbed her face with her hands, and blew out a hard, explosive breath.  _ Fuck. _ Sam slept on next to her, oblivious, although that’s the way she wanted to keep it. He had enough going on with his hallucinations and the shattered wall in his mind. She’d let him sleep.   


It wasn’t the first time she’d had the craving to use, but it certainly seemed like it was going to be the most difficult. She found herself wondering if they were too far out to find other addicts.  _ Of course not. They’re everywhere.  _ We’re _ everywhere. Maybe they would share? Maybe they’d- _ _   
_

_ No. Never again. _ _   
_

She waited for another half an hour before she admitted defeat. She pulled on a pair of leggings under her long t-shirt and grabbed her jacket, then slipped out of the bedroom. She made her way to the front porch of the cabin, where there sat a pair of old, shitty rocking chairs that perfectly suited her mood.   


She pulled a fresh pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her coat pocket, unwrapped the pack, lit one up, then leaned her head back and exhaled as she let her thoughts take her over.   


Bobby would have been a good grandfather, she mused. Her parents were so thoroughly out of the picture, Bobby would have ended up being granddad by default, had she had the baby. She could picture it quite clearly, his gruff demeanor struggling to stay upright when confronted with a baby girl. Hiding a smile behind his whiskers so no one thought he was any less intimidating than they always had, but turning into complete mush around the baby.   


Not that his hard outer shell had ever been especially difficult to pierce, anyway. He’d liked to claim it was only for Chrys, but she’d known better. He would have done anything for the hunters he helped, but especially for the Winchesters. His kids.   


He’d counted her among them, too, and it was that thought that brought tears to her eyes.   


_ How many people can you lose before you go crazy? _ she thought wearily.    


The door opening had her turning to see Dean, dressed in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and his own coat over his bare chest, stepping out onto the porch. He saw her, gave a brief nod, then came to it next to her in the other rocking chair. He held a hand out silently, and she put her pack of cigarettes and the lighter into it.   


She watched as he lit one up, then passed the pack back to her. She lit another of her own, and together, they sat quietly.   


And smoked.   


And mourned.   


* * *

Sam spent the next day wishing that it had been a hallucination.    


He threw away the clothes he’d been wearing, because while blood hadn’t made him woozy in years, this blood made him want to vomit and cry and rage. So he threw them away quickly, and didn’t mention that there were already two sets of clothes buried in the trash can before he got there.   


Both his woman and his brother smelled heavily of cigarette smoke when he woke up, but he didn’t say anything about it, even jokingly. It wasn’t a day for joking, and he wouldn’t have been able to manage, anyway.   


_ I wish this wasn’t real. _   


“Real?” he asked Chrys hoarsely at breakfast.   


Her blue eyes shone with unimaginable sadness. “Real,” she confirmed.   


_ I wish you were lying. _   


After they ate a lackluster breakfast, they each got more coffee and, by some silent agreement, went into the living room to sit. Chrys leaned heavily against his side until he brought his arm up to wrap around her. He kept her snug against him, but got little comfort from the act.   


_ I’d take you being a hallucination if it would mean the last two days weren’t real. _ _   
_

_ No, no, that’s not true. I wouldn’t trade you for anything. _ _   
_

_ Fuck, does that make me a bad person? _ _   
_

_ Probably. _   


By this time, Chrys was normally pulling him out of his head, but a glance at her showed him that she was far too deep into her own thoughts to be able to sense that he was in his.   


_ I should be able to be strong for her. I should be able to do this for her, to be the one who’s sensible and reasonable and holds us all together for a while. But I can’t. I just don’t have it in me. I- _   


A gentle, warm hand on his thigh had him looking down at Chrys again. She wasn’t looking at him, still staring out the window with an almost heartbreakingly serene expression on her face.   


“Not now, Sam,” she whispered. “Not right now.”   


That managed to shut his self-loathing up long enough to press a chaste kiss to the side of her head and ignore the way her eyes were filled with tears.

_ Not right now. _

* * *

That night, as Dean watched Chrys and Sam go to their bedroom and shut the door, he hoped they would be able to comfort one another. He hoped that maybe they’d be able to find some solace in each other, maybe some peace.

He took up his  _ (Bobby’s it’s Bobby’s it will always be Bobby’s) _ flask, the pack of smokes he’d filched from Chrys’ pocket, and went out to the front porch. He wasn’t going to find peace out there, but maybe he’d find something.

And if the flask felt a little lighter than he’d thought it should, he chalked it up to a bad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Sorry for the short chapter, but Bobby deserved an entire chapter of us being sad.


End file.
